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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca42c34 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63882 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63882) diff --git a/old/63882-0.txt b/old/63882-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1f05ae3..0000000 --- a/old/63882-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2490 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of War's Embers, by Ivor Gurney - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: War's Embers - -Author: Ivor Gurney - -Release Date: November 26, 2020 [EBook #63882] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - available at The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR'S EMBERS *** - - - - - _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - - SEVERN AND SOMME, 1917 - - - - - WAR’S EMBERS - AND OTHER VERSES - - BY - IVOR GURNEY - - LONDON: SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD. - 3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI, W.C.2. 1919 - - - _First published in 1919_ - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - -TO - -M. M. S. - - - _O, if my wishes were my power,_ - _You should be praised as were most fit,_ - _Whose kindness cannot help but flower._ - - _But since the fates have ordered it_ - _Otherwise, then ere the hour_ - _Of darkness deaden all my wit_ - - _I’ll write: how all my art was poor,_ - _My mind too thought-packed to acquit_ - _My debt ... And only, “Thanks once more.”_ - - - - -A few of the poems in this volume have already appeared in print: “The -Volunteer,” “In a Ward,” and “The Battalion is now on Rest” in _The -Spectator_; “The Immortal Hour” in _The Westminster Gazette_; “The Day -of Victory” in _The Gloucester Journal_; and “After Music” in _The -R.C.M, Magazine_. The author desires to thank the respective editors for -their kind permission to include these poems in the present collection. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -DEDICATION: TO M. M. S. 7 - -THE VOLUNTEER 13 - -THE FARM 15 - -OMENS 18 - -ETERNAL TREASURE 19 - -FIRE IN THE DUSK 20 - -TURMUT-HOEING 21 - -IN A WARD 22 - -CAMPS 23 - -GIRL’S SONG 25 - -SOLACE OF MEN 26 - -DAY-BOYS AND CHORISTERS 27 - -AT RESERVE DEPOT 29 - -TOASTS AND MEMORIES 30 - -FROM THE WINDOW 32 - -YPRES--MINSTERWORTH 33 - -NEAR MIDSUMMER 34 - -TOUSSAINTS 36 - -THE STONE-BREAKER 38 - -DRIFTING LEAVES 40 - -CONTRASTS 41 - -TO F. W. H. 43 - -THE IMMORTAL HOUR 44 - -TO HIS LOVE 45 - -MIGRANTS 46 - -OLD MARTINMAS EVE 48 - -AFTER MUSIC 49 - -THE TARGET 50 - -TWIGWORTH VICARAGE 51 - -HOSPITAL PICTURES: - - 1. LADIES OF CHARITY 52 - - 2. DUST 53 - - 3. “ABERDONIAN” 55 - - 4. COMPANION--NORTH-EAST DUGOUT 56 - - 5. THE MINER 57 - - 6. UPSTAIRS PIANO 58 - -HIDDEN TALES 61 - -RECOMPENSE 62 - -THE TRYST 63 - -THE PLAIN 64 - -RUMOURS OF WARS 65 - -“ON REST” 67 - -DICKY 70 - -THE DAY OF VICTORY 71 - -PASSIONATE EARTH 75 - -THE POPLAR 76 - -DOWN COMMERCIAL ROAD (GLOUCESTER) 77 - -FROM OMIECOURT 79 - -LE COQ FRANÇAIS 80 - -THE FISHERMAN OF NEWNHAM 82 - -THE LOCK-KEEPER 83 - -THE REVELLERS 84 - -“ANNIE LAURIE” 85 - -THE BATTALION IS NOW ON REST 86 - -PHOTOGRAPHS 87 - -THAT COUNTY 89 - -INTERVAL 90 - -DE PROFUNDIS 91 - -THE TOWER 93 - - - - -WAR’S EMBERS - - - - -THE VOLUNTEER - -(TO A. L. B.) - - - I would test God’s purposes: - I will go up and see - What fate He’ll give, what destiny - His hand holds for me. - - For God is very secret, - Slow-smiles, but does not say - A word that will foreshadow - Shape of the coming day. - - Curious am I, curious ... - And since He will not tell - I’ll prove Him, go up against - The naked mouth of Hell. - - And what hereafter--Heaven? - Or Blighty? O if it were ... - Mere agony, mere pain the price - Of the returning there. - - Or--nothing! Days in mud - And slush, then other days ... - Aie me! “Are they not all - The seas of God”; God’s Ways? - - - - -THE FARM - -(TO MRS. HARVEY AND THOSE OTHERS) - - - A creeper-covered house, an orchard near; - A farmyard with tall ricks upstanding clear - In golden sunlight of a late September.---- - How little of a whole world to remember! - How slight a thing to keep a spirit free! - Within the house were books, - A piano, dear to me, - And round the house the rooks - Haunted each tall elm tree; - Each sunset crying, calling, clamouring aloud. - - And friends lived there of whom the house was proud, - Sheltering with content from wind and storm, - Them loving gathered at the hearthside warm, - (O friendly, happy crowd!) - Caress of firelight gave them, touching hair - And cheeks and hands with sombre gleams of love, - (When day died out behind the lovely bare - Network of twigs, orchard and elms apart; - When rooks lay still in round dark nests above, - And Peace like cool dew comforted the heart.) - The house all strangers welcomed, but as strangers kept - For ever them apart - From its deep heart, - That hidden sanctuary of love close guarded; - Having too great a honey-heap uphoarded - Of children’s play, men’s work, lightly to let - Strangers therein; - Who knew its stubborn pride, and loved the more - The place from webbed slate roof to cellar floor-- - Hens clucking, ducks, all casual farmyard din. - How empty the place seemed when Duty called - To harder service its three sons than tending - Brown fruitful good earth there! But all’s God’s sending. - Above the low barn where the oxen were stalled - The old house watched for weeks the road, to see - Nothing but common traffic; nothing its own. - It had grown to them so used, so long had known - Their presences; sheltered and shared sorrow and glee, - No wonder it felt desolate and left alone ... - That must remember, nothing at all forget. - My mind (how often!) turned and returned to it, - When in queer holes of chance, bedraggled, wet, - Lousy I lay; to think how by Severn-side - A house of steadfastness and quiet pride - Kept faith to friends (when hope of mine had died - Almost to ash). And never twilight came - With mystery and peace and points of flame-- - Save it must bring sounds of my Severn flowing - Steadily seawards, orange windows glowing - Bright in the dusk, and many a well-known name. - - - - -OMENS - - (TO E. H.) - - - Black rooks about the trees - Are circling slow; - Tall elms that can no ease - Nor comfort know, - Since that the Autumn wind - Batters them before, behind, - A bitter breeze unkind. - - They call like tongues of dread - Prophesying woe, - Rooks on the sunset red, - Not heeding how - Their clamouring brings near - To a woman the old fear - For her far soldier dear. - - That harsh and idle crying - Of mere annoy - Tells her how men are dying, - And how her boy - May lie, his racked thought turning - To the home fire on the hearth burning, - The last agony be learning. - - - - -ETERNAL TREASURE - - (TO H. N. H.) - - - Why think on Beauty as for ever lost - When fire and steel have worked their evil will, - Since Beauty lasts beyond decaying dust, - And in the after-dark is lovely still? - We are no phantoms; Body is but the case - Of an immortal Flame that does not perish, - Can the all-withering power of Time outface, - Since God Himself with love that flame does cherish. - Take comfort then, and dare the dangerous thing, - Death flouting with his impotence of wrath; - For Beauty arms us ’gainst his envious sting, - Safes us in any the most perilous path. - Come then, O brothers, greet what may befall - With Joy, for Beauty’s Maker ordereth all. - - - - -FIRE IN THE DUSK - - - When your white hands have lost their fairy power, - Like dimpling water flash and charm no more, - Quick pride of grace is still, closed your bright eyes-- - I still must think, under those Northern skies, - Some influence shall remain of all that sweet; - Some flower of courage braving Easter sleet; - Colour to stir tears in tenderest skies; - Music of light. Your Autumn beeches shall - Set passion blazing in a heart until - Colour you gave be fashioned in formal line - On line; another’s beauty prove divine, - And all your wandering grace shall not be lost - To earth, being too precious, too great of cost-- - Last wonder to awake the divine spark, - A lovely presence lighting Summer’s dark; - Though dust your frame of flesh, such dust as makes - Blue radiance of March in hidden brakes.... - Pass from your body then, be what you will, - Whose light-foot walk outdanced the daffodil, - Since Time can but confirm you and fulfil - That hidden crescent power in you--Old Time, - Spoiler of pride, and towers, and breath, and rhyme, - Yet on the spirit impotent of power and will. - - - - -TURMUT-HOEING - - - I straightened my back from turmut-hoeing - And saw, with suddenly opened eyes, - Tall trees, a meadow ripe for mowing, - And azure June’s cloud-circled skies. - - Below, the earth was beautiful - Of touch and colour, fair each weed, - But Heaven’s high beauty held me still, - Only of music had I need. - - And the white-clad girl at the old farm, - Who smiled and looked across at me, - Dumb was held by that strong charm - Of cloud-ships sailing a foamless sea. - - - - -IN A WARD - - (TO J. W. H.) - - - O wind that tosses free - The children’s hair; - Scatters the blossom of - Apple and pear; - Blow in my heart, touch me, - Gladden me here. - - You have seen so many things-- - Blow in and tell - Tales of white sand and golden - ’Gainst the sea swell. - Bring me fine meadow-thoughts, - Fresh orchard smell. - - Here we must stare through glass - To see the sun-- - Stare at flat ceilings white - Till day is done: - While you, sunshine, starshine, - May out and run. - - Blow in and bring us all - Dear home-delight-- - Green face of the Spring earth, - Blue of deep night. - Blot each of our faces - From the others’ sight. - - - - -CAMPS - - - Out of the line we rest in villages - Quiet indeed, where heal the spirit’s scars; - But even so, lapped deep in sunshine and ease, - We are haunted for ever by the shapes of wars. - - Green in the sun they lie, secret, deserted, - Lovely against the blue the summits show, - Where once the bright steel sang, the red blood spurted, - And brave men cowed their terrors long ago. - - By day their life was easy; but at night, - Even now, one hears strange rustlings in the bush; - And, straining tensely doubtful ear and sight, - The stealthy moving ere the sudden rush; - - And flinches from the spear. War’s just-bright embers - That Earth still keeps and treasures for the pride - In sacrifice there shown; with love remembers - The beauty and quick strength of men that died. - - Who died as we may die, for Freedom, beauty - Of common living, calmly led in peace, - Yet took the flinty road and hard of duty, - Whose end was life abundant and increase. - - But--when Heaven’s gate wide opening receives us - Victors and full of song, forgetting scars; - Shall we see to stir old memories, to grieve us, - Heaven’s never-yet-healed sores of Michael’s wars? - - - - -GIRL’S SONG - - - The tossing poplar in the wind - Shows underleaf of silver-white; - The roughness of the wind unkind - Torments her out of all delight. - But O that he were here - Whose blows and whose caresses alike were dear! - - The great oak to the tearing blast - Stands steady with strong arms held wide, - So over him my anger passed, - When his rough usage hurt my pride. - But O that once again - I might arouse that passion, endure that pain! - - - - -SOLACE OF MEN - - - Sweet smelling, sweet to handle, fair of hue - Tobacco is. The soldier everywhere - Takes it as friend, its friendliness to share, - Whether in fragrant wreaths it mount faint blue - In dug-out low, or surreptitiously to - Parapet in rimy night, from hidden lair - Of sentry; staying hunger, stilling fear-- - The old dreams of comfort bringing anew. - For from that incense grows the stuff of dreams, - And in those clouds a drowsing man may find - All that was ever sweet to his starved mind, - Heart long denied--dear friends, hills, horses, trees, - Slopes of brown ploughland, sunset’s fading gleams ... - The bane of care, the spur to memories. - - - - -DAY-BOYS AND CHORISTERS - - (TO THE BOYS OF KING’S SCHOOL, GLOUCESTER, 1900-1905) - - - Under the shade of the great Tower - Where pass the goodly and the wise, - Year in, year out, winter and summer, - With scufflings and excited cries, - Football rages, not told in pages - Of Fame whereof the wide world hears; - A battle of divided Empire-- - The day-boys and the choristers. - - CHORUS - So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over, - And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane; - The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower-- - When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again. - - Golf balls, tennis balls, cricket and footballs, - Balls of all sizes and sorts were sent - Soaring by wall and arch and ivy - High, high over to banishment. - (Poor owner that loses!) And oh! but the bruises, - Scars, and red hacks to cover the brave - Shins of the boldest, when up and down playground - Victory surged, Victory, edged like a wave. - - CHORUS - So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over, - And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane, - The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower-- - When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again. - - Little they knew, those boys, how in Flanders - And plains of France, in another day - A trial dreadful of nerve and sinew - For four long years should test alway - That playtime pluck, that yet should carry - Them through Hell’s during worst, and how - Europe should honour them, a whole world praise them, - Though Death tore their bodies and laid them low. - - CHORUS - So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over, - And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane; - The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower-- - When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again. - - - - -AT RESERVE DEPOT - - - When Spring comes here with early innocency - Of pale high blue, they’ll put Revally back. - The passers-by carelessly amused will see - Breakfastless boys killing the patient sack. - - And there will be manœuvres where the violet shows, - Hiding its dark fervour, guarding its flame, - Where I shall lie and stare while the mystery grows - Huge and more huge, till the Sergeant calls my name. - - - - -TOASTS AND MEMORIES - - (TO THE MEN OF THE 2/5 GLOUCESTER REGIMENT) - - - When once I sat in estaminets - With trusty friends of mine, - We drank to folk in England - And pledged them well in wine, - - While thoughts of Gloucester filled us-- - Roads against windy skies - At sunset, Severn river, - Red inn-blinds, country cries. - - That stung the heart with sorrow - And barbéd sweet delight - At Riez Bailleul, Laventie, - At Merville, many a night. - - Now I am over Channel - I cannot help but think - Of friends who stifle longing - With friendly food and drink. - - “Where’s Gurney now, I wonder, - That smoked a pipe all day; - Sometimes that talked like blazes, - Sometimes had naught to say?” - - And I, at home, must wonder - Where all my comrades are: - Those men whose Heart-of-Beauty - Was never stained by War. - - - - -FROM THE WINDOW - - - Tall poplars in the sun - Are quivering, and planes, - Forgetting the day gone, - Its cold un-August rains; - But with me still remains - The sight of beaten corn, - Crushed flowers and forlorn, - The summer’s wasted gains-- - Yet pools in secret lanes - Abrim with heavenly blue - Life’s wonder mirror anew. - I must forget the pains - Of yesterday, and do - Brave things--bring loaded wains - The bare brown meadows through, - I must haste, I must out and run, - Wonder, till my heart drains - Joy’s cup, as in high champagnes - Of blue, where great clouds go on - With white sails free from stains - Full-stretched, on fleckless mains-- - With captain’s joy of some proud galleon. - - - - -YPRES--MINSTERWORTH - - (TO F. W. H.) - - - Thick lie in Gloucester orchards now - Apples the Severn wind - With rough play tore from the tossing - Branches, and left behind - Leaves strewn on pastures, blown in hedges, - And by the roadway lined. - - And I lie leagues on leagues afar - To think how that wind made - Great shoutings in the wide chimney, - A noise of cannonade-- - Of how the proud elms by the signpost - The tempest’s will obeyed-- - - To think how in some German prison - A boy lies with whom - I might have taken joy full-hearted - Hearing the great boom - Of Autumn, watching the fire, talking - Of books in the half gloom. - - O wind of Ypres and of Severn - Riot there also, and tell - Of comrades safe returned, home-keeping - Music and Autumn smell. - Comfort blow him and friendly greeting, - Hearten him, wish him well! - - - - -NEAR MIDSUMMER - - - Severn’s most fair to-day! - See what a tide of blue - She pours, and flecked alway - With gold, and what a crew - Of seagulls snowy white - Float round her to delight - Villagers, travellers. - A brown thick flood is hers - In winter when the rains - Wash down from Midland plains, - Halting wayfarers, - Low meadows flooding deep - With torrents from the steep - Mountains of Wales and small - Hillocks of no degree-- - Streams jostling to the sea; - (Wrangling yet brotherly). - Blue June has altered all-- - The river makes its fall - With murmurous still sound, - Past Pridings faëry ground, - And steep-down Newnham cliff.... - O Boys in trenches, if - You could see what any may - (Escaping town for the day), - Strong Severn all aglow, - But tideless, running slow: - Far Cotswolds all a-shimmer, - Blue Bredon leagues away-- - Huge Malverns, farther, dimmer ... - Then you would feel the fire - Of the First Days inspire - You, when, despising all - Save England’s, honour’s call, - You dared the worst for her: - Faced all things without fear, - So she might stand alway - A free Mother of men; - High Queen as on this day. - There would flood through you again - The old faith, the old pride - Wherein our fathers died, - Whereby our land was builded and dignified. - - - - -TOUSSAINTS - - (TO J. W. H.) - - - Like softly clanging cymbals were - Plane-trees, poplars Autumn had - Arrayed in gloriously sad - Garments of beauty wind-astir; - It was the day of all the dead-- - - Toussaints. In sombre twos and threes - Between those coloured pillars went - Drab mourners. Full of presences - The air seemed ... ever and anon rent - By a slow bell’s solemnities. - - The past year’s gloriously dead - Came, folk dear to that rich earth - Had given them sustenance and birth, - Breath and dreams and daily bread, - Took labour-sweat, returned them mirth. - - Merville across the plain gleamed white, - The thronged still air gave never a sound, - Only, monotonous untoned - The bell of grief and lost delight. - Gay leaves slow fluttered to the ground. - - Sudden, that sense of peace and prayer - Like vapour faded. Round the bend - Swung lines of khaki without end.... - Common was water, earth and air; - Death seemed a hard thing not to mend. - - - - -THE STONE-BREAKER - - (TO DOROTHY) - - - The early dew was still untrodden, - Flawless it lay on flower and blade, - The last caress of night’s cold fragrance - A freshness in the young day made. - - The velvet and the silver floor - Of the orchard-close was gold inlaid - With spears and streaks of early sunlight-- - Such beauty makes men half afraid. - - An old man at his heap of stones - Turned as I neared his clinking hammer, - Part of the earth he seemed, the trees, - The sky, the twelve-hour heat of summer. - - “Fine marnen, zür!” And the earth spoke - From his mouth, as if the field dark red - On our right hand had greeted me - With words, that grew tall grain instead. - - * * * * * - - Oh, years ago, and near forgot! - Yet, as I walked the Flemish way, - An hour gone, England spoke to me - As clear of speech as on that day; - Since peasants by the roadway working - Hailed us in tones uncouth, and one - Turned his face toward the marching column, - Fronted, took gladness from the sun. - - And straight my mind was set on singing - For memory of a wrinkled face, - Orchards untrodden, far to travel, - Sweet to find in my own place. - - - - -DRIFTING LEAVES - - - The yellow willow leaves that float - Down Severn after Autumn rains - Take not of trouble any note-- - Lost to the tree, its joys and pains. - - But man that has a thousand ties - Of homage to his place of birth, - Nothing surrenders when he dies; - But yearns for ever to his earth-- - - Red ploughlands, trees that friended him, - Warm house of shelter, orchard peace. - In day’s last rosy influence dim - They flock to us without a cease; - - Through fast-shut doors of olden houses - In soundless night the dear dead come, - Whose sorrow no live folk arouses, - Running for comfort hither home. - - Though leaves on tide may idly range, - Grounding at last on some far mire-- - Our memories can never change: - We are bond, we are ruled with Love’s desire. - - - - -CONTRASTS - - - If I were on the High Road - That runs to Malvern Town, - I should not need to read, to smoke, - My fear of death to drown; - Watching the clouds, skies, shadows dappling - The sweet land up and down. - - But here the shells rush over, - We lie in evil holes, - We burrow into darkness - Like rabbits or like moles, - Men that have breathed the Severn air, - Men that have eyes and souls. - - To-day the grass runs over - With ripples like the sea, - And men stand up and drink air - Easy and sweet and free; - But days like this are half a curse, - And Beauty troubles me. - - The shadows under orchards there - Must be as clear and black-- - At Minsterworth, at Framilode-- - As though we had all come back; - Were out at making hay or tedding, - Piling the yellow stack. - - The gardens grow as freshly - On Cotswold’s green and white; - The grey-stone cottage colours - Are lovely to the sight, - As we were glad for dreams there, - Slept deep at home at night; - - While here we die a dozen deaths - A score of times a day; - Trying to keep up heart and not - To give ourselves away. - “Two years longer,” “Peace to-morrow,” - “Some time yet,” they say! - - - - -TO F. W. H. - - - Ink black and lustreless may hold - A passion full of living fire: - Spring’s green the Autumn does enfold-- - Things precious hide their bright in the mire. - - And a whole county’s lovely pride - In one small book I found that made - More real the pictured Severn side - Than crash and shock of cannonade. - - Beneath, more strong than that dread noise - The talk I heard of trees and men, - The still low-murmuring Earth-voice ... - God send us dreams in peace again. - - - - -THE IMMORTAL HOUR - - (TO WINNIE) - - - I have forgotten where the pleasure lay - In resting idle in the summer weather, - Waiting on Beauty’s power my spirit to sway, - Since Life has taken me and flung me hither; - - Here where gray day to day goes dully on, - So evenly, so grayly that the heart - Not notices nor cares that Time is gone - That might be jewelled bright and set apart. - - And yet, for all this weight, there stirs in me - Such music of Joy when some perceivéd flower - Breaks irresistible this crust, this lethargy, - I burn and hunger for that immortal hour - - When Peace shall bring me first to my own home, - To my own hills; I’ll climb and vision afar - Great cloud-fleets line on line up Severn come, - Where winds of Joy shall cleanse the stain of war. - - - - -TO HIS LOVE - - - He’s gone, and all our plans - Are useless indeed. - We’ll walk no more on Cotswold - Where the sheep feed - Quietly and take no heed. - - His body that was so quick - Is not as you - Knew it, on Severn river - Under the blue - Driving our small boat through. - - You would not know him now ... - But still he died - Nobly, so cover him over - With violets of pride - Purple from Severn side. - - Cover him, cover him soon! - And with thick-set - Masses of memoried flowers-- - Hide that red wet - Thing I must somehow forget. - - - - -MIGRANTS - - (TO MRS. TAYLOR) - - - No colour yet appears - On trees still summer fine, - The hill has brown sheaves yet, - Bare earth is hard and set; - But autumn sends a sign - In this as in other years. - - For birds that flew alone - And scattered sought their food - Gather in whirring bands;-- - Starlings, about the lands - Spring cherished, summer made good, - Dark bird-clouds soon to be gone. - - But above that windy sound - A deeper note of fear - All daylight without cease - Troubles the country peace; - War birds, high in the air, - Airplanes shadow the ground. - - Seawards to Africa - Starlings with joy shall turn, - War birds to skies of strife, - Where Death is ever at Life; - High in mid-air may burn - Great things that trouble day. - - Their time is perilous, - Governed by Fate obscure; - But when our April comes - About the thatch-eaved homes,-- - Cleaving sweet air, the sure - Starlings shall come to us. - - - - -OLD MARTINMAS EVE - - - The moon, one tree, one star, - Still meadows far, - Enwreathed and scarfed by phantom lines of white. - November’s night - Of all her nights, I thought, and turned to see - Again that moon and star-supporting tree. - If some most quiet tune had spoken then; - Some silver thread of sound; a core within - That sea-deep silentness, I had not known - Ever such joy in peace, but sound was none-- - Nor should be till birds roused to find the dawn. - - - - -AFTER MUSIC - - - Why, I am on fire now, and tremulous - With sense of Beauty long denied; the first - Opening of floodgate to the glorious burst - Of Freedom from the Fate that limits us - To work in darkness pining for the light, - Thirsting for sweet untainted draughts of air, - Clouds sunset coloured, Music ... O Music’s bare - White heat of silver passion fiercely bright! - While sweating at the foul task, we can taste - No Joy that’s clean, no Love but something lets - It from its power; the wisest soul forgets - What’s beautiful, or delicate, or chaste. - Orpheus drew me (as once his bride) from Hell. - If wisely, her or me, the Gods can tell. - - - - -THE TARGET - - - I shot him, and it had to be - One of us! ’Twas him or me. - “Couldn’t be helped,” and none can blame - Me, for you would do the same. - - My mother, she can’t sleep for fear - Of what might be a-happening here - To me. Perhaps it might be best - To die, and set her fears at rest. - - For worst is worst, and worry’s done. - Perhaps he was the only son ... - Yet God keeps still, and does not say - A word of guidance any way. - - Well, if they get me, first I’ll find - That boy, and tell him all my mind, - And see who felt the bullet worst, - And ask his pardon, if I durst. - - All’s a tangle. Here’s my job. - A man might rave, or shout, or sob; - And God He takes no sort of heed. - This is a bloody mess indeed. - - - - -TWIGWORTH VICARAGE - - (TO A. H. C.) - - - Wakened by birds and sun, laughter of the wind, - A man might see all heart’s desire by raising - His pillowed sleepy head (still apt for lazing - And drowsy thought)--but then a green most kind - Waved welcome, and the rifted sky behind - Showed blue, whereon cloud-ships full-sailed went racing, - Man to delight and set his heart on praising - The Maker of all things, bountiful-hearted, kind. - - May Hill, that half-revealéd tree-clad thing, - Maisemore’s delightful ridge, where Severn flowing - Nourished a wealth of lovely wild things blowing - Sweet as the air--Wainlodes and Ashleworth - To northward showed, a land where a great king - Might sit to receive homage from the whole earth. - - - - -_HOSPITAL PICTURES_ - -(TO THE NURSES OF WARD 24, BANGOUR WAR HOSPITAL, NEAR EDINBURGH) - - - - -1. LADIES OF CHARITY - - - With quiet tread, with softly smiling faces - The nurses move like music through the room; - While broken men (known, technically, as “cases”) - Watch them with eyes late deep in bitter gloom, - As though the Spring were come with all the Graces, - Or maiden April walked the ward in bloom. - - Men that have grown forgetful of Joy’s power, - And old before their time, take courtesy - So sweet of girl or woman, as if some flower - Most strangely fair of Spring were suddenly - Thick in the woods at Winter’s blackest hour-- - The gift unlocked for--lovely Charity. - - Their anguish they forget, and, worse, the slow - Corruption of Joy’s springs; now breathe again - The free breath was theirs so long ago. - Courage renewed makes mock at the old pain. - Life’s loveliness brings tears, and a new glow. - Somehow their sacrifice seems not in vain. - - - - -2. DUST - - - Lying awake in the ward - Long hours as any must, - I wonder where the dust - Comes from, the Dust, the Dust! - That makes their life so hard,-- - The nurses, who must rub - The soon appearing crust - Of green on the bright knob. - - And little bits of fluff, - Dull white upon the floor, - Most soft, most curious stuff - That sidles to the door - When no one sees, and makes - Deep wrinkles and heart-breaks; - Light sighs and curses rough. - - Oh! if a scientist - Of warm and kindly heart - Should live a while apart, - (Old Satan’s tail to twist,) - Poring on crucibles, - Vessels uncanny, till - He won at last to Hell’s - Grand secret of ill-will-- - How Fluff comes and how Dust, - Then nurses all would paint - Cheeks pretty for his sake; - Or stay in prayer awake - All night for that great Saint - Of Cleanliness, that bright - Devoted anchorite; - Brave champion and true knight. - - - - -3. “ABERDONIAN” - - - A soldier looked at me with blue hawk-eyes, - With kindly glances sorrow had made wise, - And talked till all I’d ever read in books - Melted to ashes in his burning looks; - And poets I’d despise and craft of pen, - If, while he told his coloured wonder-tales - Of Glasgow, Ypres, sea mist, spouting whales - (Alive past words or power of writing men), - My heart had not exulted in his brave - Air of the wild woodland and sea wave; - Or if, with each new sentence from his tongue, - My high-triumphing spirit had not sung - As in some April when the world was young. - - - - -4. COMPANION--NORTH-EAST DUGOUT - - - He talked of Africa, - That fat and easy man. - I’d but to say a word, - And straight the tales began. - - And when I’d wish to read, - That man would not disclose - A thought of harm, but sleep; - Hard-breathing through his nose. - - Then when I’d wish to hear - More tales of Africa, - ’Twas but to wake him up, - And but a word to say - - To press the button, and - Keep quiet; nothing more; - For tales of stretching veldt, - Kaffir and sullen Boer. - - O what a lovely friend! - O quiet easy life! - I wonder if his sister - Would care to be my wife.... - - - - -5. THE MINER - - - Indomitable energy controlled - By Fate to wayward ends and to half use, - He should have given his service to the Muse, - To most men shy, to him, her humble soldier, - Frank-hearted, generous, bold. - - Yet though his fate be cross, he shall not tire - Nor seek another service than his own: - For selfless valour and the primal fire - Shine out from him, as once from great Ulysses, - That king without a throne. - - - - -6. UPSTAIRS PIANO - - - O dull confounded Thing, - You will not sing - Though I distress your keys - With thumps; in ecstasies - Of wrath, at some mis-said - Word of the deathless Dead! - - Chopin or dear Mozart, - How must it break your heart - To hear this Beast refuse - The choice gifts of the Muse! - And turn your airy thought - With clumsiness to nought. - - I am guilty too, for I - Have let the fine thing by; - And spoilt high graciousness - With a note more or less; - Whose wandering fingers know - Not surely where they go; - Whose mind most weak, most poor, - Your fire may not endure - That’s passionate, that’s pure. - - And yet, and yet, men pale - (Late under Passchendaele - Or some such blot on earth) - Feel once again the birth - Of joy in them, and know - That Beauty’s not a show - Of lovely things long past. - - And stricken men at last - Take heart and glimpse the light, - Grow strong and comforted - With eyes that challenge night, - With proud-poised gallant head, - And new-born keen delight. - - Beethoven, Schumann, Bach: - These men do greatly lack, - And you have greatly given. - The fervent blue of Heaven - They will see with purer eyes-- - Suffering has made them wise; - Music shall make them sweet. - - If they shall see the stars - More clearly after their wars, - That is a good wage. - Yours is a heritage - Most noble and complete. - And if we, blind, have gone - Where a great glory shone, - Or deaf, where angels sang; - Forgive us, for you, too, - A little blind were, knew - Of weakness, once, the pang; - Of darkness, once, the fear. - - And so, forgive this dear - Pig-hearted chest of strings, - And me, whose heart not sings - Nor triumphs as do yours - Within the Heavenly doors-- - Walking the clear unhindered level floors. - - - - -HIDDEN TALES - - - The proud and sturdy horses - Gather their willing forces, - Unswerving make their courses - Over the brown - Earth that was mowing meadow - A month agone, where shadow - And light in the tall grasses - Quivered and was gone. - - They spoil the nest of plover - And lark, turn up, uncover - The bones of many a lover - Unfamed in tales; - Arrows, old flints of hammers, - The rooks with hungry clamours - Hover around and settle - Seeking full meals. - - Who knows what splendid story - Lies here, what hidden glory - Of brave defeat or victory - This earth might show. - None cares; the surging horses - Gather untiring forces - The keen-eyed farmer after - Guiding the plough. - - - - -RECOMPENSE - - (TO THE MEN OF THE 2/5 GLOUCESTER REGIMENT) - - - I’d not have missed one single scrap of pain - That brought me to such friends, and them to me; - And precious is the smallest agony, - The greatest, willingly to bear again-- - Cruel frost, night vigils, death so often ta’en - By Golgothas untold from Somme to Sea. - Duty’s a grey thing; Friendship valorously - Rides high above all Fortune without stain. - - Their eyes were stars within the blackest night - Of Evil’s trial. Never mariner - Did trust so in the ever-fixéd star - As I in those. And so their laughter sounded-- - Trumpets of Victory glittering in sunlight; - Though Hell’s power ringed them in, and night surrounded. - - - - -THE TRYST - - (TO W. M. C.) - - - In curtain of the hazel wood, - From sunset to the clear-of-star, - An hour or more I feared, but stood-- - My lover’s road was far. - - Until within the ferny brake - Stirred patter feet and silver talk - That set all horror wide awake-- - I fear the fairy folk ... - - That bind with chains and change a maid - From happy smiling to a thing - Better in ground unhallowed laid - Where holy bells not ring. - - And whether late he came or soon - I know not, through a rush of air - Along the white road under the moon - I sped, till the golden square - - Showed of the blind lamplighted; then, - My hand on heart, I slackened, stood ... - Though Robin be the man of men, - I’ll walk no more that wood. - - - - -THE PLAIN - - - The plain’s a waste of evil mire, - And dead of colour, sodden-grey, - The trees are ruined, crumbled the spire - That once made glad the innocent day. - - The host of flowers are buried deep - With friends of mine who held them dear; - Poor shattered loveliness asleep, - Dreaming of April’s covering there. - - Oh, if the Bringer of Spring does care - For Duty valorously done, - Then what sweet breath shall scent the air! - What colour-blaze outbrave the sun! - - - - -RUMOURS OF WARS - - (TO MRS. VOYNICH) - - - On Sussex hills to-day - Women stand and hear - The guns at work alway, - Horribly, terribly clear. - - The doors shake, on the wall - The kitchen vessels move, - The brave heart not at all - May soothe its tortured love, - - Nor hide from truth, nor find - Comfort in lies. No prayer - May calm. All’s naught. The mind - Waits on the throbbing air. - - The frighted day grows dark. - None dares to speak. The gloom - Makes bright and brighter the spark - Of fire in the still room. - - A crazy door shakes free.... - “Dear God!” They stand, they stare ... - A shape eyes cannot see - Troubles blank darkness there. - - She knows, and must go pray - Numb-hearted by the bed - That was his own alway ... - The throbbing hurts her head. - - - - -“ON REST” - - (TO THE MEN OF THE 2/5 GLOUCESTER REGIMENT) - - - It’s a King’s life, a life fit for a King! - To lie safe sheltered in some old hay-loft - Night long, on golden straw, and warm and soft, - Unroused; to hear through dreams dawn’s thrushes sing - “Revally”--drowse again; then wake to find - The bright sun through the broken tiles thick-streaming. - “Revally” real: and there’s an end to dreaming. - “Up, Boys, and Out!” Then O what green, what still - Peace in the orchard, deep and sweet and kind, - Shattered abruptly--splashing water, shout - On shout of sport, and cookhouse vessels banging, - Dixie against dixie musically clanging.-- - The farmer’s wife, searching for eggs, ’midst all - Dear farmhouse cries. A stroll: and then “Breakfast’s up.” - Porridge and bacon! Tea out of a real cup - (Borrowed). First day on Rest, a Festival - Of mirth, laughter in safety, a still air. - “No whizzbangs,” “crumps” to fear, nothing to mind, - Danger and the thick brown mud behind, - An end to wiring, digging, end to care. - Now wonders begin, Sergeants with the crowd - Mix; Corporals, Lance-Corporals, little proud, - Authority forgotten, all goes well - In this our Commonwealth, with tales to tell, - Smokes to exchange, letters of price to read, - Letters of friends more sweet than daily bread. - The Sergeant-major sheathes his claws and lies - Smoking at length, content deep in his eyes. - Officers like brothers chaff and smile-- - Salutes forgotten, etiquette the while, - Comrades and brothers all, one friendly band. - Now through the orchard (sun-dried of dewfall) in - And out the trees the noisy sports begin. - He that is proud of body runs, leaps, turns - Somersaults, hand-turns; the licensed jester flings - Javelins of blunt wit may bruise not pierce; - Ragtimes and any scrap of nonsense sings. - All’s equal now. It’s Rest, none cares, none escapes - The hurtless battering of those kindly japes. - Noon comes, the estaminets open welcome doors, - Men drift along the roads in three and fours, - Enter those cool-paven rooms, and sit - Waiting; many there are to serve, Madame - Forces her way with glasses, all ignores - The impatient clamour of that thirsty jam, - The outcries, catcalls, queries, doubtful wit, - Alike. Newspapers come, “Journal, m’sieur?” - “What’s the news?” “Anything fresh, boy?” “Tell us - what’s new.” - Dinner, perhaps a snooze, perhaps a stroll. - Tea, letters (most like), rations to divide - (Third of a loaf, half, if luck’s our way). - No work, no work, no work! A lovely day! - Down the main street men loiter side by side. - So day goes on blue-domed till the west’s afire - With the sun just sunken, though we cannot see, - Hidden in green, the fall of majesty. - Our hearts are lifted up, fierce with desire - But once again to see the ricks, the farms, - Blue roads, still trees of home in the rich glow; - Life’s pageant fading slower and more slow - Till Peace folds all things in with tender arms. - The last stroll in the orchard ends, the last - Candles are lit in bivvy and barn and cart, - Where comrades talking lie, comfort at heart, - Gladder for danger shared in the hard past, - The stars grow bright ’gainst Heaven’s still-deepening blue, - Lights in the orchard die. “I wonder how - Mother is keeping: she must be sleepy now - As we, yet may be wondering all night through.” - - - - -DICKY - - (TO HIS MEMORY) - - - They found him when the day - Was yet but gloom; - Six feet of scarréd clay - Was ample room - And wide enough domain for all desires - For him, whose glowing eyes - Made mock at lethargies, - Were not a moment still;-- - Can Death, all slayer, kill - The fervent source of those exultant fires? - Nay, not so; - Somewhere that glow - And starry shine so clear astonishes yet - The wondering spirits as they come and go. - Eyes that nor they nor we shall ever forget. - -OMIECOURT. - - - - -THE DAY OF VICTORY - - (TO MY CITY) - - - The dull dispiriting November weather - Hung like a blight on town and tower and tree, - Hardly was Beauty anywhere to see - Save--how fine rain (together - With spare last leaves of creepers once showed wet - As it were, with blood of some high-making passion,) - Drifted slow and slow.... - But steadily aglow - The City was, beneath its grey, and set - Strong-mooded above the day’s inclemency. - - Flaunting from houses, over the rejoicing crowd, - Flags waved; that told how nation against nation - Should war no more, their wounds tending awhile:-- - The sullen vanquished; Victors with heads bowed. - And still the bells from the square towers pealed Victory, - The whole time cried Victory, Victory flew - Banners invisible argent; Music intangible - A glory of spirit wandered the wide air through. - All knew it, nothing mean of fire or common - Ran in men’s minds; none so poor but knew - Some touch of sacred wonder, noble wonder,-- - Thought’s surface moving under; - Life’s texture coarse transfiguring through and through. - - Joking, friendly-quarrelling, holiday-making, - Eddying hither, thither, without stay - That concourse went, squibs, crackers, squibbing, cracking-- - Laughter gay - All common-jovial noises sounded, bugles - triumphing masterful, strident, clear above all, - Hail fellow, cat-call ... - Yet one discerned - A new spirit learnt of pain, some great - Acceptance out of hard endurance learned - And truly; wrested bare of hand from Fate. - The soldier from his body slips the pack, - Staggers, relaxes, crouches, then lies back, - Glad for the end of torment. Here was more. - - A sense of consummation undeserved, - Desire fulfilled beyond dreams, completion - Humbly accepted,--a proud and grateful nation - Took the reward of purpose had not swerved, - But steadily before - Saw out, with equal mind, through alternation - Of hope and doubt--a four-year purge of fire - Changing with sore - Travail the flawed spirit, cleansing desire. - - And glad was I: - Glad--who had seen - By Somme and Ancre too many comrades lie. - It was as if the Woman’s spirit moved - That multitude, never of Man that pays - So lightly for the treasure of his days-- - Of some woman that too greatly had beloved - Yet, willing, half her care of life foregone; - Best half of being losing with her son, - Beloved, beautiful, born-of-agony One.... - - The dull skies wept still. Drooped suddenly - Flags all. No triumph there. - Belgium, the Stars and Stripes, Gaul, Italy, - Britain, assured Mistress, Queen of the Sea, - Forlorn colours showed; rags glory-bare. - Night came, starless, to blur all things over - That strange assort of Life; - Sister, and lover, - Brother, child, wife, - Parent--each with his thought, careless or passioned, - Of those who gave their frames of flesh to cover - From spoil their land and folk, desperately fashioned - Fate stubborn to their will. - - Rain fell, miserably, miserably, and still - The strange crowd clamoured till late, eddied, clamoured, - Mixed, mused, drifted.... The Day of Victory. - - - - -PASSIONATE EARTH - - (TO J. W. H.) - - - Where the new-turned ploughland runs to clean - Edges of sudden grass-land, lovely, green-- - Music, music clings, music exhales, - And inmost fragrance of a thousand tales. - There the heart lifts, the soul takes flight to sing - High at Heaven-gate; but loth for entering - Lest there such brown and green it never find; - Nor feel the sting - Of such a beauty left so far behind. - - - - -THE POPLAR - - (TO MICKY) - - - A tall slim poplar - That dances in - A hidden corner - Of the old garden, - What is it in you - Makes communion - With this wind of Autumn, - The clouds, the sun? - - You must be lonely - Amidst round trees - With their matron-figures - And stubborn knees, - Casting hard glances - Of keen despite - On the lone girl that dances - Silvery white. - - But you are dearer - To sky and earth - Than lime-trees, plane-trees - Of meaner birth. - Your sweet shy beauty - Dearer to us - Than tree-folk, worthy, - Censorious. - - - - -DOWN COMMERCIAL ROAD (GLOUCESTER) - - (TO MY MOTHER) - - - When I was small and packed with tales of desert islands far - My mother took me walking in a grey ugly street, - But there the sea-wind met us with a jolly smell of tar, - A sailorman went past to town with slow rolling gait; - And Gloucester she’s famous in story. - - The trees and shining sky of June were good enough to see, - Better than books or any tales the sailormen might tell-- - But tops’le spars against the blue made fairyland for me; - The snorting tug made surges like the huge Atlantic swell. - And Gloucester she’s famous in story. - - Then thought I, how much better to sail the open seas - Than sit in school at spelling-books or sums of grocers’ wares. - And I’d have knelt for pity at any captain’s knees - To go see the banyan tree or white Arctic bears. - And Gloucester she’s famous in story. - - O Gloucester men about the world that dare the seas to-day, - Remember little boys at school a-studying their best - To hide somehow from Mother, and get clear away - To where the flag of England flies prouder than the rest. - And Gloucester she’s famous in story. - - - - -FROM OMIECOURT - - - O small dear things for which we fight-- - Red roofs, ricks crowned with early gold, - Orchards that hedges thick enfold-- - O visit us in dreams to-night! - - Who watch the stars through broken walls - And ragged roofs, that you may be - Still kept our own and proudly free - While Severn from the Welsh height falls. - - - - -LE COQ FRANÇAIS - - (TO RONALD) - - - After the biting cold of the outer night - It seemed--(“Le Coq Français”)--a palace of light, - And its low roof black-timbered was most fine - After the iron and sandbags of the line. - Easy it was to be happy there! Madame, - Frying a savoury mess of eggs and ham, - Talking the while: of the War, of the crops, her son - Who should see to them, and would, when the War was done. - Of battalions who had passed there, happy as we - To find a house so clean, such courtesy - Simple, sincere; after vigils of frost - The place seemed the seventh Heaven of comfort; lost - In miraculous strange peace and warmth we’d sit - Till the prowling police hunted us out of it-- - Away from café noir, café au lait, vin blanc, - Vin rouge, citron, all that does belong - To the kindly shelter of old estaminets, - Nooked and cornered, with mirth of firelight ablaze-- - Herded us into billets; where candles must show - Little enough comfort after the steady glow - Of that wonderful fireshine. We must huddle us close - In blankets, hiding all but the crimson nose, - To think awhile of home, if the frost would let - Thought flow at all; then sleep, sleep to forget - All but home and old rambles, lovely days - Of maiden April, glamorous September haze, - All darling things of life, the sweet of desire-- - Castles of Spain in the deep heart of the fire. - - - - -THE FISHERMAN OF NEWNHAM - - (TO MY FATHER) - - - When I was a boy at Newnham, - For every tide that ran - Swift on its way to Bollo, - I wished I were a man - To sail out and discover - Where such a tide began. - - But when my strength came on me - ’Tis I must earn my bread: - My Father set me fishing - By Frampton Hock, instead - Of wandering to the ocean-- - Wherever Severn led. - - And now I’ve come to manhood, - Too many cares have I - To think of gallivanting - (A wife and child forbye). - So I must wonder ever - Until time comes to die. - - Then I shall question Peter - Upon the heavenly floor, - What makes the tide in rivers-- - How comes the Severn bore, - And all things he will tell me - I never knew before. - - - - -THE LOCK-KEEPER - - (TO THE MEMORY OF EDWARD THOMAS) - - - A tall lean man he was, proud of his gun, - Of his garden, and small fruit trees every one - Knowing all weather signs, the flight of birds, - Farther than I could hear the falling thirds - Of the first cuckoo. Able at digging, he - Smoked his pipe ever, furiously, contentedly. - Full of old country tales his memory was; - Yarns of both sea and land, full of wise saws - In rough fine speech; sayings his father had, - That worked a twelve-hour day when but a lad. - Handy with timber, nothing came amiss - To his quick skill; and all the mysteries - Of sail-making, net-making, boat-building were his. - That dark face lit with bright bird-eyes, his stride - Manner most friendly courteous, stubborn pride, - I shall not forget, not yet his patience - With me, unapt, though many a far league hence - I’ll travel for many a year, nor ever find - A winter-night companion more to my mind, - Nor one more wise in ways of Severn river, - Though her villages I search for ever and ever. - - - - -THE REVELLERS - - - I saw a silver-bright shield hang - Entangled in the topmost boughs - Of an old elm-tree, and a house - Dreaming; the while a small stream sang - A tune of broken silver by, - And laughed and wondered at the sky. - - A thousand thousand silver lamps - Dared the bright moon of stars. O! who, - Wandering that silver quiet through, - Might heed the river-mists, dew-damps? - All Heaven exulted, but Earth lay - Breathless and tranced in peace alway. - - From the orange-windowed tavern near - A song some ancient lover had-- - When stars and longing made him mad-- - Fashioned from wonder at his dear, - Rang out. Yet none there moves a limb - To see such stars as passioned him. - - The loth moon left the twigs and gazed - Full-fronted at the road, the stream, - That all but tiniest tunes adream - Stilled, held breath at last amazed. - The farmers from their revel came; - But no stars saw, and felt no flame. - - - - -“ANNIE LAURIE” - - (TO H. N. H.) - - - The high barn’s lit by many a guttering flare - Of flickering candle, dangerous--(hence forbidden)-- - To warm soft straw, whereby the cold floor’s hidden, - On which we soon shall rest without a care. - War is forgotten. Gossip fills the air - Of home, and laughter sounds beyond the midden - Under the stars, where Youth makes Joy unchidden - Of gods or men, and mocks at sorrow there. - But hark! what sudden pure untainted passion - Seizes us now, and stills the garrulous? - A song of old immortal dedication - To Beauty’s service and one woman’s heart. - No tears we show, no sign of flame in us - This hour of stars and music set apart. - - - - -THE BATTALION IS NOW ON REST - - (TO “LA COMTESSE”) - - - Walking the village street, to watch the stars and find - Some peace like the old peace, some soothe for soul and mind; - The noise of laughter strikes me as I move on my way - Towards England--Westward--and the last glow of day. - - And here is the end of houses. I turn on my heel, - And stay where those voices a moment made me feel - As I were on Cotswold, with nothing else to do - Than stare at the old houses, to taste the night-dew; - - To answer friendly greetings from rough voices kind.... - Oh, one may try for ever to be calm and resigned, - A red blind at evening sets the poor heart on fire-- - Or a child’s face, a sunset--with the old hot desire. - - - - -PHOTOGRAPHS - -(TO TWO SCOTS LADS) - - - Lying in dug-outs, joking idly, wearily; - Watching the candle guttering in the draught; - Hearing the great shells go high over us, eerily - Singing; how often have I turned over, and laughed - - With pity and pride, photographs of all colours, - All sizes, subjects: khaki brothers in France; - Or mothers’ faces worn with countless dolours; - Or girls whose eyes were challenging and must dance, - - Though in a picture only, a common cheap - Ill-taken card; and children--frozen, some - (Babies) waiting on Dicky-bird to peep - Out of the handkerchief that is his home - - (But he’s so shy!). And some with bright looks, calling - Delight across the miles of land and sea, - That not the dread of barrage suddenly falling - Could quite blot out--not mud nor lethargy. - - Smiles and triumphant careless laughter. O - The pain of them, wide Earth’s most sacred things! - Lying in dugouts, hearing the great shells slow - Sailing mile-high, the heart mounts higher and sings. - - But once--O why did he keep that bitter token - Of a dead Love?--that boy, who, suddenly moved, - Showed me, his eyes wet, his low talk broken, - A girl who better had not been beloved. - - - - -THAT COUNTY - - - Go up, go up your ways of varying love, - Take each his darling path wherever lie - The central fires of secret memory; - Whether Helvellyn tower the lakes above; - Or black Plinlimmon time and tempest prove; - Or any English heights of bravery. - I will go climb my little hills to see - Severn, and Malverns, May Hill’s tiny grove. - - No Everest is here, no peaks of power - Astonish men. But on the winding ways - White in the frost-time, blinding in full June blaze, - A man may take all quiet heart’s delight-- - Village and quarry, taverns and many a tower - That saw Armada beacons set alight. - - - - -INTERVAL - - - To straight the back, how good; to see the slow - Dispersed cloud-flocks of Heaven wandering blind - Without a shepherd, feel caress the kind - Sweet August air, soft drifting to and fro - Meadow and arable.--Leaning on my hoe - I searched for any beauty eyes might find. - The tossing wood showed silver in the wind; - Green hills drowsed wakeful in the golden glow. - - Yet all the air was loud with mutterings, - Rumours of trouble strange in that rich peace, - Where War’s dread birds must practise without cease - All that the stoutest pilot-heart might dare. - Death over dreaming life managed his wings, - Droning dull song in the sun-satiate air. - - - - -DE PROFUNDIS - - - If only this fear would leave me I could dream of Crickley Hill - And a hundred thousand thoughts of home would visit my heart in sleep; - But here the peace is shattered all day by the devil’s will, - And the guns bark night-long to spoil the velvet silence deep. - - O who could think that once we drank in quiet inns and cool - And saw brown oxen trooping the dry sands to slake - Their thirst at the river flowing, or plunged in a silver pool - To shake the sleepy drowse off before well awake? - - We are stale here, we are covered body and soul and mind - With mire of the trenches, close clinging and foul. - We have left our old inheritance, our Paradise behind, - And clarity is lost to us and cleanness of soul. - - O blow here, you dusk-airs and breaths of half-light, - And comfort despairs of your darlings that long - Night and day for sound of your bells, or a sight - Of your tree-bordered lanes, land of blossom and song. - - Autumn will be here soon, but the road of coloured leaves - Is not for us, the up and down highway where go - Earth’s pilgrims to wonder where Malvern upheaves - That blue-emerald splendour under great clouds of snow. - - Some day we’ll fill in trenches, level the land and turn - Once more joyful faces to the country where trees - Bear thickly for good drink, where strong sunsets burn - Huge bonfires of glory--O God, send us peace! - - Hard it is for men of moors or fens to endure - Exile and hardship, or the Northland grey-drear; - But we of the rich plain of sweet airs and pure, - Oh! Death would take so much from us, how should we not fear? - - - - -THE TOWER - - (TO M. H.) - - - On the old road of Roman, on the road - Of chivalry and pride--the path to Wales - Famed in the chronicles and full of tales-- - Westward I went, songs in my mouth, and strode - Free-bodied, light of heart, - Past many a heaped waggon with golden load, - And rumbling carrier’s cart. - When, near the bridge where snorting trains go under - With noise of thunder, - I turned and saw - A tower stand, like an immortal law-- - - Permanent, past the reach of Time and Change, - Yet fair and fresh as any flower wild blown; - As delicate, as fair - As any highest tiny cloudlet sown - Faint in the upper air. - Fragile yet strong, a music that vision seemed. - Though all the land was fair, let the eye range - Whither it will - On plain or hill, - It must return where white the tower gleamed - Wonderful, irresistible, bubble-bright - In the morning light. - - And then I knew, I knew why men must choose - Rather the dangerous path of arms than let - Beauty be broken - That is God’s token, - The sign of Him; why hearts of courage forget - Aught but the need supreme - To follow honour and the perilous thing: - Scorning Death’s sting; - Knowing Man’s faith not founded on a dream. - - -_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR'S EMBERS *** - -***** This file should be named 63882-0.txt or 63882-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/8/63882/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: War's Embers - -Author: Ivor Gurney - -Release Date: November 26, 2020 [EBook #63882] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - available at The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR'S EMBERS *** -</pre><hr class="full" /> - -<div class="cb"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="550" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="cb"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i><br /><br /> -SEVERN AND SOMME, 1917</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span> </p> - -<h1><span class="ltsp">WAR’S EMBERS</span><br /> -<small>AND OTHER VERSES</small></h1> - -<p class="cb">BY<br /> -IVOR GURNEY<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">London</span>: SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD.<br /> -3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI, W.C.2. 1919<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span><br /> -<br /> -<i>First published in 1919</i><br /> -<br /> -<i>All rights reserved</i><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span></p> - -<h2 style="text-align:center;margin-right:auto;"><a name="TO" id="TO"></a>TO<br /><br /> -M. M. S.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>O, if my wishes were my power,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You should be praised as were most fit,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Whose kindness cannot help but flower.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>But since the fates have ordered it</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Otherwise, then ere the hour</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of darkness deaden all my wit</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>I’ll write: how all my art was poor,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>My mind too thought-packed to acquit</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>My debt ... And only, “Thanks once more.”</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blk"> -<p>A few of the poems in this volume have already appeared in print: “The -Volunteer,” “In a Ward,” and “The Battalion is now on Rest” in <i>The -Spectator</i>; “The Immortal Hour” in <i>The Westminster Gazette</i>; “The Day -of Victory” in <i>The Gloucester Journal</i>; and “After Music” in <i>The -R.C.M, Magazine</i>. The author desires to thank the respective editors for -their kind permission to include these poems in the present collection.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span> </p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO">DEDICATION: TO M. M. S.</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_7">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_VOLUNTEER">THE VOLUNTEER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_13">13</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_FARM">THE FARM</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_15">15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OMENS">OMENS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_18">18</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ETERNAL_TREASURE">ETERNAL TREASURE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_19">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FIRE_IN_THE_DUSK">FIRE IN THE DUSK</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_20">20</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TURMUT-HOEING">TURMUT-HOEING</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_21">21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_A_WARD">IN A WARD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_22">22</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CAMPS">CAMPS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_23">23</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GIRLS_SONG">GIRL’S SONG</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_25">25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SOLACE_OF_MEN">SOLACE OF MEN</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_26">26</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DAY-BOYS_AND_CHORISTERS">DAY-BOYS AND CHORISTERS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_27">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_RESERVE_DEPOT">AT RESERVE DEPOT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_29">29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TOASTS_AND_MEMORIES">TOASTS AND MEMORIES</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FROM_THE_WINDOW">FROM THE WINDOW</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#YPRES_MINSTERWORTH">YPRES—MINSTERWORTH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span> -<a href="#NEAR_MIDSUMMER">NEAR MIDSUMMER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TOUSSAINTS">TOUSSAINTS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_STONE-BREAKER">THE STONE-BREAKER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DRIFTING_LEAVES">DRIFTING LEAVES</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_40">40</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CONTRASTS">CONTRASTS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_F_W_H">TO F. W. H.</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_43">43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_IMMORTAL_HOUR">THE IMMORTAL HOUR</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_HIS_LOVE">TO HIS LOVE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_45">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MIGRANTS">MIGRANTS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_46">46</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OLD_MARTINMAS_EVE">OLD MARTINMAS EVE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_48">48</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AFTER_MUSIC">AFTER MUSIC</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_49">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_TARGET">THE TARGET</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_50">50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TWIGWORTH_VICARAGE">TWIGWORTH VICARAGE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_51">51</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span> -<a href="#HOSPITAL_PICTURES">HOSPITAL PICTURES:</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#ONE_LADIES_OF_CHARITY">1. LADIES OF CHARITY</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_52">52</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#TWO_DUST">2. DUST</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_53">53</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THREE_ABERDONIAN">3. “ABERDONIAN”</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_55">55</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#FOUR_COMPANION_NORTH-EAST_DUGOUT">4. COMPANION—NORTH-EAST DUGOUT</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_56">56</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#FIVE_THE_MINER">5. THE MINER</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_57">57</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#SIX_UPSTAIRS_PIANO">6. UPSTAIRS PIANO</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_58">58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HIDDEN_TALES">HIDDEN TALES</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_61">61</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#RECOMPENSE">RECOMPENSE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_62">62</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_TRYST">THE TRYST</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_63">63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PLAIN">THE PLAIN</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_64">64</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#RUMOURS_OF_WARS">RUMOURS OF WARS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_65">65</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ON_REST">“ON REST”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_67">67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DICKY">DICKY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_70">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_DAY_OF_VICTORY">THE DAY OF VICTORY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_71">71</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PASSIONATE_EARTH">PASSIONATE EARTH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_75">75</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_POPLAR">THE POPLAR</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_76">76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DOWN_COMMERCIAL_ROAD_GLOUCESTER">DOWN COMMERCIAL ROAD (GLOUCESTER)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_77">77</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FROM_OMIECOURT">FROM OMIECOURT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_79">79</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LE_COQ_FRANCAIS">LE COQ FRANÇAIS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_80">80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span> -<a href="#THE_FISHERMAN_OF_NEWNHAM">THE FISHERMAN OF NEWNHAM</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_82">82</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_LOCK-KEEPER">THE LOCK-KEEPER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_83">83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_REVELLERS">THE REVELLERS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_84">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ANNIE_LAURIE">“ANNIE LAURIE”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_85">85</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BATTALION_IS_NOW_ON_REST">THE BATTALION IS NOW ON REST</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_86">86</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PHOTOGRAPHS">PHOTOGRAPHS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THAT_COUNTY">THAT COUNTY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_89">89</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#INTERVAL">INTERVAL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_90">90</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DE_PROFUNDIS">DE PROFUNDIS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_91">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_TOWER">THE TOWER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_93">93</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="WARS_EMBERS" id="WARS_EMBERS"></a>WAR’S EMBERS</h2> - -<h2><a name="THE_VOLUNTEER" id="THE_VOLUNTEER"></a>THE VOLUNTEER<br /><br /> -(<span class="smcap">To A. L. B.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I would</span> test God’s purposes:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I will go up and see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What fate He’ll give, what destiny<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His hand holds for me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For God is very secret,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slow-smiles, but does not say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A word that will foreshadow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shape of the coming day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Curious am I, curious ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And since He will not tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll prove Him, go up against<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The naked mouth of Hell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And what hereafter—Heaven?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or Blighty? O if it were ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mere agony, mere pain the price<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the returning there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or—nothing! Days in mud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And slush, then other days ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aie me! “Are they not all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The seas of God”; God’s Ways?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_FARM" id="THE_FARM"></a>THE FARM<br /><br /> -(<span class="smcap">To Mrs. Harvey and Those Others</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A creeper-covered</span> house, an orchard near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A farmyard with tall ricks upstanding clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In golden sunlight of a late September.——<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How little of a whole world to remember!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How slight a thing to keep a spirit free!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the house were books,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A piano, dear to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round the house the rooks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haunted each tall elm tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each sunset crying, calling, clamouring aloud.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And friends lived there of whom the house was proud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sheltering with content from wind and storm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Them loving gathered at the hearthside warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(O friendly, happy crowd!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Caress of firelight gave them, touching hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cheeks and hands with sombre gleams of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(When day died out behind the lovely bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Network of twigs, orchard and elms apart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When rooks lay still in round dark nests above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Peace like cool dew comforted the heart.)<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The house all strangers welcomed, but as strangers kept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever them apart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From its deep heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hidden sanctuary of love close guarded;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Having too great a honey-heap uphoarded<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of children’s play, men’s work, lightly to let<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strangers therein;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who knew its stubborn pride, and loved the more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The place from webbed slate roof to cellar floor—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hens clucking, ducks, all casual farmyard din.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How empty the place seemed when Duty called<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To harder service its three sons than tending<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown fruitful good earth there! But all’s God’s sending.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the low barn where the oxen were stalled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old house watched for weeks the road, to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing but common traffic; nothing its own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It had grown to them so used, so long had known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their presences; sheltered and shared sorrow and glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No wonder it felt desolate and left alone ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That must remember, nothing at all forget.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My mind (how often!) turned and returned to it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in queer holes of chance, bedraggled, wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lousy I lay; to think how by Severn-side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A house of steadfastness and quiet pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kept faith to friends (when hope of mine had died<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Almost to ash). And never twilight came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mystery and peace and points of flame—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save it must bring sounds of my Severn flowing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steadily seawards, orange windows glowing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright in the dusk, and many a well-known name.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OMENS" id="OMENS"></a>OMENS -<br />(<span class="smcap">To E. H.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Black</span> rooks about the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are circling slow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tall elms that can no ease<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor comfort know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since that the Autumn wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Batters them before, behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bitter breeze unkind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They call like tongues of dread<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Prophesying woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rooks on the sunset red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not heeding how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their clamouring brings near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a woman the old fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her far soldier dear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That harsh and idle crying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of mere annoy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tells her how men are dying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And how her boy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May lie, his racked thought turning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the home fire on the hearth burning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last agony be learning.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ETERNAL_TREASURE" id="ETERNAL_TREASURE"></a>ETERNAL TREASURE -<br />(<span class="smcap">To H. N. H.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Why</span> think on Beauty as for ever lost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When fire and steel have worked their evil will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since Beauty lasts beyond decaying dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the after-dark is lovely still?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We are no phantoms; Body is but the case<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of an immortal Flame that does not perish,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can the all-withering power of Time outface,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since God Himself with love that flame does cherish.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take comfort then, and dare the dangerous thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death flouting with his impotence of wrath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Beauty arms us ’gainst his envious sting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Safes us in any the most perilous path.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come then, O brothers, greet what may befall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Joy, for Beauty’s Maker ordereth all.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FIRE_IN_THE_DUSK" id="FIRE_IN_THE_DUSK"></a>FIRE IN THE DUSK</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> your white hands have lost their fairy power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like dimpling water flash and charm no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quick pride of grace is still, closed your bright eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I still must think, under those Northern skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some influence shall remain of all that sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some flower of courage braving Easter sleet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Colour to stir tears in tenderest skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music of light. Your Autumn beeches shall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set passion blazing in a heart until<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Colour you gave be fashioned in formal line<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On line; another’s beauty prove divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all your wandering grace shall not be lost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To earth, being too precious, too great of cost—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Last wonder to awake the divine spark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lovely presence lighting Summer’s dark;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though dust your frame of flesh, such dust as makes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue radiance of March in hidden brakes....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pass from your body then, be what you will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose light-foot walk outdanced the daffodil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since Time can but confirm you and fulfil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hidden crescent power in you—Old Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spoiler of pride, and towers, and breath, and rhyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet on the spirit impotent of power and will.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TURMUT-HOEING" id="TURMUT-HOEING"></a>TURMUT-HOEING</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I straightened</span> my back from turmut-hoeing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And saw, with suddenly opened eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tall trees, a meadow ripe for mowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And azure June’s cloud-circled skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Below, the earth was beautiful<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of touch and colour, fair each weed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Heaven’s high beauty held me still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only of music had I need.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the white-clad girl at the old farm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who smiled and looked across at me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dumb was held by that strong charm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of cloud-ships sailing a foamless sea.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_A_WARD" id="IN_A_WARD"></a>IN A WARD -<br />(<span class="smcap">To J. W. H.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O wind</span> that tosses free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The children’s hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scatters the blossom of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Apple and pear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow in my heart, touch me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gladden me here.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You have seen so many things—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blow in and tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tales of white sand and golden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Gainst the sea swell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring me fine meadow-thoughts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fresh orchard smell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here we must stare through glass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see the sun—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stare at flat ceilings white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till day is done:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While you, sunshine, starshine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May out and run.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blow in and bring us all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear home-delight—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green face of the Spring earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blue of deep night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blot each of our faces<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the others’ sight.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CAMPS" id="CAMPS"></a>CAMPS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Out</span> of the line we rest in villages<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quiet indeed, where heal the spirit’s scars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But even so, lapped deep in sunshine and ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We are haunted for ever by the shapes of wars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Green in the sun they lie, secret, deserted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lovely against the blue the summits show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where once the bright steel sang, the red blood spurted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brave men cowed their terrors long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By day their life was easy; but at night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even now, one hears strange rustlings in the bush;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, straining tensely doubtful ear and sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stealthy moving ere the sudden rush;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And flinches from the spear. War’s just-bright embers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Earth still keeps and treasures for the pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sacrifice there shown; with love remembers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The beauty and quick strength of men that died.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who died as we may die, for Freedom, beauty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of common living, calmly led in peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet took the flinty road and hard of duty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose end was life abundant and increase.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But—when Heaven’s gate wide opening receives us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Victors and full of song, forgetting scars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall we see to stir old memories, to grieve us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heaven’s never-yet-healed sores of Michael’s wars?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GIRLS_SONG" id="GIRLS_SONG"></a>GIRL’S SONG</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> tossing poplar in the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shows underleaf of silver-white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The roughness of the wind unkind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Torments her out of all delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But O that he were here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose blows and whose caresses alike were dear!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The great oak to the tearing blast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stands steady with strong arms held wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So over him my anger passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When his rough usage hurt my pride.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But O that once again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I might arouse that passion, endure that pain!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SOLACE_OF_MEN" id="SOLACE_OF_MEN"></a>SOLACE OF MEN</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sweet</span> smelling, sweet to handle, fair of hue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tobacco is. The soldier everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Takes it as friend, its friendliness to share,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether in fragrant wreaths it mount faint blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dug-out low, or surreptitiously to<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Parapet in rimy night, from hidden lair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of sentry; staying hunger, stilling fear—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old dreams of comfort bringing anew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For from that incense grows the stuff of dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in those clouds a drowsing man may find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that was ever sweet to his starved mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heart long denied—dear friends, hills, horses, trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slopes of brown ploughland, sunset’s fading gleams ...<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The bane of care, the spur to memories.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DAY-BOYS_AND_CHORISTERS" id="DAY-BOYS_AND_CHORISTERS"></a>DAY-BOYS AND CHORISTERS -<br />(<span class="smcap">To the Boys of King’s School, Gloucester, 1900-1905</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Under</span> the shade of the great Tower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where pass the goodly and the wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Year in, year out, winter and summer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With scufflings and excited cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Football rages, not told in pages<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Fame whereof the wide world hears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A battle of divided Empire—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day-boys and the choristers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Chorus</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Golf balls, tennis balls, cricket and footballs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Balls of all sizes and sorts were sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soaring by wall and arch and ivy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High, high over to banishment.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Poor owner that loses!) And oh! but the bruises,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scars, and red hacks to cover the brave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shins of the boldest, when up and down playground<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Victory surged, Victory, edged like a wave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Chorus</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little they knew, those boys, how in Flanders<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And plains of France, in another day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A trial dreadful of nerve and sinew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For four long years should test alway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That playtime pluck, that yet should carry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Them through Hell’s during worst, and how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Europe should honour them, a whole world praise them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though Death tore their bodies and laid them low.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Chorus</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AT_RESERVE_DEPOT" id="AT_RESERVE_DEPOT"></a>AT RESERVE DEPOT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> Spring comes here with early innocency<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of pale high blue, they’ll put Revally back.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The passers-by carelessly amused will see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breakfastless boys killing the patient sack.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there will be manœuvres where the violet shows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hiding its dark fervour, guarding its flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I shall lie and stare while the mystery grows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Huge and more huge, till the Sergeant calls my name.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TOASTS_AND_MEMORIES" id="TOASTS_AND_MEMORIES"></a>TOASTS AND MEMORIES -<br />(<span class="smcap">To the Men of the 2/5 Gloucester Regiment</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> once I sat in estaminets<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With trusty friends of mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We drank to folk in England<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pledged them well in wine,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While thoughts of Gloucester filled us—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roads against windy skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At sunset, Severn river,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Red inn-blinds, country cries.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That stung the heart with sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And barbéd sweet delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Riez Bailleul, Laventie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At Merville, many a night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now I am over Channel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I cannot help but think<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of friends who stifle longing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With friendly food and drink.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Where’s Gurney now, I wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That smoked a pipe all day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes that talked like blazes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes had naught to say?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I, at home, must wonder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where all my comrades are:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those men whose Heart-of-Beauty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was never stained by War.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FROM_THE_WINDOW" id="FROM_THE_WINDOW"></a>FROM THE WINDOW</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Tall</span> poplars in the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are quivering, and planes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgetting the day gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its cold un-August rains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But with me still remains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sight of beaten corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crushed flowers and forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The summer’s wasted gains—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet pools in secret lanes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Abrim with heavenly blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s wonder mirror anew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I must forget the pains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of yesterday, and do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brave things—bring loaded wains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bare brown meadows through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I must haste, I must out and run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wonder, till my heart drains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joy’s cup, as in high champagnes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of blue, where great clouds go on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With white sails free from stains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full-stretched, on fleckless mains—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With captain’s joy of some proud galleon.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="YPRES_MINSTERWORTH" id="YPRES_MINSTERWORTH"></a>YPRES—MINSTERWORTH -<br />(<span class="smcap">To F. W. H.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Thick</span> lie in Gloucester orchards now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Apples the Severn wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With rough play tore from the tossing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Branches, and left behind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaves strewn on pastures, blown in hedges,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And by the roadway lined.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I lie leagues on leagues afar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To think how that wind made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great shoutings in the wide chimney,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A noise of cannonade—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of how the proud elms by the signpost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tempest’s will obeyed—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To think how in some German prison<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A boy lies with whom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I might have taken joy full-hearted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hearing the great boom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Autumn, watching the fire, talking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of books in the half gloom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O wind of Ypres and of Severn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Riot there also, and tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of comrades safe returned, home-keeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Music and Autumn smell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comfort blow him and friendly greeting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hearten him, wish him well!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="NEAR_MIDSUMMER" id="NEAR_MIDSUMMER"></a>NEAR MIDSUMMER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Severn</span>’s most fair to-day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See what a tide of blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She pours, and flecked alway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With gold, and what a crew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of seagulls snowy white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Float round her to delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Villagers, travellers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A brown thick flood is hers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In winter when the rains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wash down from Midland plains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Halting wayfarers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low meadows flooding deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With torrents from the steep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mountains of Wales and small<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hillocks of no degree—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Streams jostling to the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Wrangling yet brotherly).<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue June has altered all—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The river makes its fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With murmurous still sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past Pridings faëry ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And steep-down Newnham cliff....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Boys in trenches, if<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You could see what any may<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Escaping town for the day),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong Severn all aglow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But tideless, running slow:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far Cotswolds all a-shimmer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue Bredon leagues away—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Huge Malverns, farther, dimmer ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then you would feel the fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the First Days inspire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You, when, despising all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save England’s, honour’s call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You dared the worst for her:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faced all things without fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So she might stand alway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A free Mother of men;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High Queen as on this day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There would flood through you again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old faith, the old pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein our fathers died,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereby our land was builded and dignified.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TOUSSAINTS" id="TOUSSAINTS"></a>TOUSSAINTS -<br />(<span class="smcap">To J. W. H.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Like</span> softly clanging cymbals were<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plane-trees, poplars Autumn had<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arrayed in gloriously sad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Garments of beauty wind-astir;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was the day of all the dead—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Toussaints. In sombre twos and threes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between those coloured pillars went<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drab mourners. Full of presences<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The air seemed ... ever and anon rent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By a slow bell’s solemnities.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The past year’s gloriously dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came, folk dear to that rich earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had given them sustenance and birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breath and dreams and daily bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Took labour-sweat, returned them mirth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Merville across the plain gleamed white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thronged still air gave never a sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only, monotonous untoned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bell of grief and lost delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gay leaves slow fluttered to the ground.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sudden, that sense of peace and prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like vapour faded. Round the bend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swung lines of khaki without end....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Common was water, earth and air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death seemed a hard thing not to mend.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_STONE-BREAKER" id="THE_STONE-BREAKER"></a>THE STONE-BREAKER -<br />(<span class="smcap">To Dorothy</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> early dew was still untrodden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flawless it lay on flower and blade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last caress of night’s cold fragrance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A freshness in the young day made.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The velvet and the silver floor<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the orchard-close was gold inlaid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With spears and streaks of early sunlight—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such beauty makes men half afraid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An old man at his heap of stones<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turned as I neared his clinking hammer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Part of the earth he seemed, the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sky, the twelve-hour heat of summer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Fine marnen, zür!” And the earth spoke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From his mouth, as if the field dark red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On our right hand had greeted me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With words, that grew tall grain instead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0spc">. . . . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, years ago, and near forgot!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet, as I walked the Flemish way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An hour gone, England spoke to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As clear of speech as on that day;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since peasants by the roadway working<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hailed us in tones uncouth, and one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turned his face toward the marching column,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fronted, took gladness from the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And straight my mind was set on singing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For memory of a wrinkled face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Orchards untrodden, far to travel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet to find in my own place.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DRIFTING_LEAVES" id="DRIFTING_LEAVES"></a>DRIFTING LEAVES</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> yellow willow leaves that float<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down Severn after Autumn rains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take not of trouble any note—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lost to the tree, its joys and pains.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But man that has a thousand ties<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of homage to his place of birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing surrenders when he dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But yearns for ever to his earth—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Red ploughlands, trees that friended him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Warm house of shelter, orchard peace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In day’s last rosy influence dim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They flock to us without a cease;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through fast-shut doors of olden houses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In soundless night the dear dead come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose sorrow no live folk arouses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Running for comfort hither home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though leaves on tide may idly range,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grounding at last on some far mire—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our memories can never change:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We are bond, we are ruled with Love’s desire.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CONTRASTS" id="CONTRASTS"></a>CONTRASTS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> I were on the High Road<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That runs to Malvern Town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I should not need to read, to smoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My fear of death to drown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching the clouds, skies, shadows dappling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sweet land up and down.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But here the shells rush over,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We lie in evil holes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We burrow into darkness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like rabbits or like moles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men that have breathed the Severn air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Men that have eyes and souls.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day the grass runs over<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With ripples like the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men stand up and drink air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Easy and sweet and free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But days like this are half a curse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Beauty troubles me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shadows under orchards there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must be as clear and black—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Minsterworth, at Framilode—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As though we had all come back;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were out at making hay or tedding,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Piling the yellow stack.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The gardens grow as freshly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On Cotswold’s green and white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grey-stone cottage colours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are lovely to the sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As we were glad for dreams there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slept deep at home at night;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While here we die a dozen deaths<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A score of times a day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trying to keep up heart and not<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To give ourselves away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Two years longer,” “Peace to-morrow,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Some time yet,” they say!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_F_W_H" id="TO_F_W_H"></a>TO F. W. H.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ink</span> black and lustreless may hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A passion full of living fire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring’s green the Autumn does enfold—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Things precious hide their bright in the mire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And a whole county’s lovely pride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In one small book I found that made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More real the pictured Severn side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than crash and shock of cannonade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beneath, more strong than that dread noise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The talk I heard of trees and men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The still low-murmuring Earth-voice ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God send us dreams in peace again.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_IMMORTAL_HOUR" id="THE_IMMORTAL_HOUR"></a>THE IMMORTAL HOUR -<br />(<span class="smcap">To Winnie</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I have</span> forgotten where the pleasure lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In resting idle in the summer weather,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waiting on Beauty’s power my spirit to sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since Life has taken me and flung me hither;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here where gray day to day goes dully on,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So evenly, so grayly that the heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not notices nor cares that Time is gone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That might be jewelled bright and set apart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet, for all this weight, there stirs in me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such music of Joy when some perceivéd flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breaks irresistible this crust, this lethargy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I burn and hunger for that immortal hour<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Peace shall bring me first to my own home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To my own hills; I’ll climb and vision afar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great cloud-fleets line on line up Severn come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where winds of Joy shall cleanse the stain of war.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_HIS_LOVE" id="TO_HIS_LOVE"></a>TO HIS LOVE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">He’s</span> gone, and all our plans<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are useless indeed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll walk no more on Cotswold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the sheep feed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quietly and take no heed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His body that was so quick<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is not as you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knew it, on Severn river<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the blue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Driving our small boat through.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You would not know him now ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But still he died<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nobly, so cover him over<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With violets of pride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Purple from Severn side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cover him, cover him soon!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And with thick-set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Masses of memoried flowers—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hide that red wet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thing I must somehow forget.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MIGRANTS" id="MIGRANTS"></a>MIGRANTS -<br />(<span class="smcap">To Mrs. Taylor</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">No</span> colour yet appears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On trees still summer fine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hill has brown sheaves yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bare earth is hard and set;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But autumn sends a sign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this as in other years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For birds that flew alone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scattered sought their food<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gather in whirring bands;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Starlings, about the lands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring cherished, summer made good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark bird-clouds soon to be gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But above that windy sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A deeper note of fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All daylight without cease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Troubles the country peace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">War birds, high in the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Airplanes shadow the ground.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Seawards to Africa<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Starlings with joy shall turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">War birds to skies of strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Death is ever at Life;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High in mid-air may burn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great things that trouble day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their time is perilous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Governed by Fate obscure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when our April comes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the thatch-eaved homes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cleaving sweet air, the sure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Starlings shall come to us.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OLD_MARTINMAS_EVE" id="OLD_MARTINMAS_EVE"></a>OLD MARTINMAS EVE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> moon, one tree, one star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still meadows far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enwreathed and scarfed by phantom lines of white.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">November’s night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all her nights, I thought, and turned to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again that moon and star-supporting tree.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If some most quiet tune had spoken then;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some silver thread of sound; a core within<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sea-deep silentness, I had not known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever such joy in peace, but sound was none—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor should be till birds roused to find the dawn.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AFTER_MUSIC" id="AFTER_MUSIC"></a>AFTER MUSIC</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Why</span>, I am on fire now, and tremulous<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With sense of Beauty long denied; the first<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Opening of floodgate to the glorious burst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Freedom from the Fate that limits us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To work in darkness pining for the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thirsting for sweet untainted draughts of air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clouds sunset coloured, Music ... O Music’s bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White heat of silver passion fiercely bright!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While sweating at the foul task, we can taste<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No Joy that’s clean, no Love but something lets<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It from its power; the wisest soul forgets<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What’s beautiful, or delicate, or chaste.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Orpheus drew me (as once his bride) from Hell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If wisely, her or me, the Gods can tell.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TARGET" id="THE_TARGET"></a>THE TARGET</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I shot</span> him, and it had to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One of us! ’Twas him or me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Couldn’t be helped,” and none can blame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me, for you would do the same.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My mother, she can’t sleep for fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what might be a-happening here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me. Perhaps it might be best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To die, and set her fears at rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For worst is worst, and worry’s done.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps he was the only son ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet God keeps still, and does not say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A word of guidance any way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well, if they get me, first I’ll find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That boy, and tell him all my mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see who felt the bullet worst,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ask his pardon, if I durst.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All’s a tangle. Here’s my job.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man might rave, or shout, or sob;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And God He takes no sort of heed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is a bloody mess indeed.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TWIGWORTH_VICARAGE" id="TWIGWORTH_VICARAGE"></a>TWIGWORTH VICARAGE<br /> -(<span class="smcap">To A. H. C.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Wakened</span> by birds and sun, laughter of the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A man might see all heart’s desire by raising<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His pillowed sleepy head (still apt for lazing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drowsy thought)—but then a green most kind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waved welcome, and the rifted sky behind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Showed blue, whereon cloud-ships full-sailed went racing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Man to delight and set his heart on praising<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Maker of all things, bountiful-hearted, kind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">May Hill, that half-revealéd tree-clad thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Maisemore’s delightful ridge, where Severn flowing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nourished a wealth of lovely wild things blowing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet as the air—Wainlodes and Ashleworth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To northward showed, a land where a great king<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Might sit to receive homage from the whole earth.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HOSPITAL_PICTURES" id="HOSPITAL_PICTURES"></a><i>HOSPITAL PICTURES</i><br /><br /> -(<span class="smcap">To the Nurses of Ward 24, Bangour War Hospital, near Edinburgh</span>)</h2> - -<h3><a name="ONE_LADIES_OF_CHARITY" id="ONE_LADIES_OF_CHARITY"></a>1. LADIES OF CHARITY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">With</span> quiet tread, with softly smiling faces<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nurses move like music through the room;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While broken men (known, technically, as “cases”)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Watch them with eyes late deep in bitter gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As though the Spring were come with all the Graces,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or maiden April walked the ward in bloom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Men that have grown forgetful of Joy’s power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And old before their time, take courtesy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sweet of girl or woman, as if some flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most strangely fair of Spring were suddenly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thick in the woods at Winter’s blackest hour—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gift unlocked for—lovely Charity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their anguish they forget, and, worse, the slow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Corruption of Joy’s springs; now breathe again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The free breath was theirs so long ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Courage renewed makes mock at the old pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s loveliness brings tears, and a new glow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somehow their sacrifice seems not in vain.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="TWO_DUST" id="TWO_DUST"></a>2. DUST</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lying</span> awake in the ward<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long hours as any must,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wonder where the dust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes from, the Dust, the Dust!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That makes their life so hard,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nurses, who must rub<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soon appearing crust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of green on the bright knob.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And little bits of fluff,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dull white upon the floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most soft, most curious stuff<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sidles to the door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When no one sees, and makes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep wrinkles and heart-breaks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Light sighs and curses rough.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! if a scientist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of warm and kindly heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should live a while apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Old Satan’s tail to twist,)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poring on crucibles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vessels uncanny, till<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He won at last to Hell’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grand secret of ill-will—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How Fluff comes and how Dust,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then nurses all would paint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cheeks pretty for his sake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or stay in prayer awake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night for that great Saint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Cleanliness, that bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Devoted anchorite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brave champion and true knight.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="THREE_ABERDONIAN" id="THREE_ABERDONIAN"></a>3. “ABERDONIAN”</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A soldier</span> looked at me with blue hawk-eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With kindly glances sorrow had made wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And talked till all I’d ever read in books<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Melted to ashes in his burning looks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And poets I’d despise and craft of pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If, while he told his coloured wonder-tales<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Glasgow, Ypres, sea mist, spouting whales<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Alive past words or power of writing men),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart had not exulted in his brave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Air of the wild woodland and sea wave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if, with each new sentence from his tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My high-triumphing spirit had not sung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in some April when the world was young.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="FOUR_COMPANION_NORTH-EAST_DUGOUT" id="FOUR_COMPANION_NORTH-EAST_DUGOUT"></a>4. COMPANION—NORTH-EAST DUGOUT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">He</span> talked of Africa,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That fat and easy man.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d but to say a word,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And straight the tales began.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when I’d wish to read,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That man would not disclose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thought of harm, but sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hard-breathing through his nose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then when I’d wish to hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More tales of Africa,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas but to wake him up,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And but a word to say<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To press the button, and<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Keep quiet; nothing more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For tales of stretching veldt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kaffir and sullen Boer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O what a lovely friend!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O quiet easy life!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wonder if his sister<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would care to be my wife....<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="FIVE_THE_MINER" id="FIVE_THE_MINER"></a>5. THE MINER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Indomitable</span> energy controlled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Fate to wayward ends and to half use,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He should have given his service to the Muse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To most men shy, to him, her humble soldier,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frank-hearted, generous, bold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet though his fate be cross, he shall not tire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor seek another service than his own:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For selfless valour and the primal fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine out from him, as once from great Ulysses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That king without a throne.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="SIX_UPSTAIRS_PIANO" id="SIX_UPSTAIRS_PIANO"></a>6. UPSTAIRS PIANO</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O dull</span> confounded Thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You will not sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I distress your keys<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With thumps; in ecstasies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wrath, at some mis-said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Word of the deathless Dead!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Chopin or dear Mozart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How must it break your heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear this Beast refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The choice gifts of the Muse!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turn your airy thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With clumsiness to nought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am guilty too, for I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have let the fine thing by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spoilt high graciousness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a note more or less;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose wandering fingers know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not surely where they go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose mind most weak, most poor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your fire may not endure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s passionate, that’s pure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet, and yet, men pale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Late under Passchendaele<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or some such blot on earth)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Feel once again the birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of joy in them, and know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Beauty’s not a show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of lovely things long past.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And stricken men at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take heart and glimpse the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grow strong and comforted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With eyes that challenge night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With proud-poised gallant head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And new-born keen delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beethoven, Schumann, Bach:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These men do greatly lack,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you have greatly given.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fervent blue of Heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They will see with purer eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suffering has made them wise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music shall make them sweet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If they shall see the stars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More clearly after their wars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is a good wage.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yours is a heritage<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most noble and complete.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if we, blind, have gone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where a great glory shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or deaf, where angels sang;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgive us, for you, too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little blind were, knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of weakness, once, the pang;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of darkness, once, the fear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so, forgive this dear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pig-hearted chest of strings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And me, whose heart not sings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor triumphs as do yours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the Heavenly doors—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walking the clear unhindered level floors.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HIDDEN_TALES" id="HIDDEN_TALES"></a>HIDDEN TALES</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> proud and sturdy horses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gather their willing forces,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unswerving make their courses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the brown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth that was mowing meadow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A month agone, where shadow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And light in the tall grasses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quivered and was gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They spoil the nest of plover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lark, turn up, uncover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bones of many a lover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unfamed in tales;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arrows, old flints of hammers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rooks with hungry clamours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hover around and settle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking full meals.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who knows what splendid story<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies here, what hidden glory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of brave defeat or victory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This earth might show.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None cares; the surging horses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gather untiring forces<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The keen-eyed farmer after<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guiding the plough.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RECOMPENSE" id="RECOMPENSE"></a>RECOMPENSE -<br />(<span class="smcap">To the Men of the 2/5 Gloucester Regiment</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I’d</span> not have missed one single scrap of pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That brought me to such friends, and them to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And precious is the smallest agony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The greatest, willingly to bear again—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cruel frost, night vigils, death so often ta’en<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Golgothas untold from Somme to Sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Duty’s a grey thing; Friendship valorously<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rides high above all Fortune without stain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their eyes were stars within the blackest night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Evil’s trial. Never mariner<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did trust so in the ever-fixéd star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I in those. And so their laughter sounded—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trumpets of Victory glittering in sunlight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though Hell’s power ringed them in, and night surrounded.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TRYST" id="THE_TRYST"></a>THE TRYST -<br />(<span class="smcap">To W. M. C.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">In</span> curtain of the hazel wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From sunset to the clear-of-star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An hour or more I feared, but stood—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lover’s road was far.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Until within the ferny brake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stirred patter feet and silver talk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That set all horror wide awake—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I fear the fairy folk ...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That bind with chains and change a maid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From happy smiling to a thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better in ground unhallowed laid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where holy bells not ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And whether late he came or soon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know not, through a rush of air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the white road under the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I sped, till the golden square<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Showed of the blind lamplighted; then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My hand on heart, I slackened, stood ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though Robin be the man of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll walk no more that wood.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_PLAIN" id="THE_PLAIN"></a>THE PLAIN</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> plain’s a waste of evil mire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dead of colour, sodden-grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trees are ruined, crumbled the spire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That once made glad the innocent day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The host of flowers are buried deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With friends of mine who held them dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor shattered loveliness asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dreaming of April’s covering there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, if the Bringer of Spring does care<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For Duty valorously done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then what sweet breath shall scent the air!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What colour-blaze outbrave the sun!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">{65}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RUMOURS_OF_WARS" id="RUMOURS_OF_WARS"></a>RUMOURS OF WARS -<br />(<span class="smcap">To Mrs. Voynich</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">On</span> Sussex hills to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Women stand and hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The guns at work alway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Horribly, terribly clear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The doors shake, on the wall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The kitchen vessels move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brave heart not at all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May soothe its tortured love,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor hide from truth, nor find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Comfort in lies. No prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May calm. All’s naught. The mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waits on the throbbing air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The frighted day grows dark.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">None dares to speak. The gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes bright and brighter the spark<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of fire in the still room.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A crazy door shakes free....<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Dear God!” They stand, they stare ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shape eyes cannot see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Troubles blank darkness there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">{66}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She knows, and must go pray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Numb-hearted by the bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That was his own alway ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The throbbing hurts her head.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">{67}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ON_REST" id="ON_REST"></a>“ON REST” -<br />(<span class="smcap">To the Men of the 2/5 Gloucester Regiment</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">It’s</span> a King’s life, a life fit for a King!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lie safe sheltered in some old hay-loft<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night long, on golden straw, and warm and soft,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unroused; to hear through dreams dawn’s thrushes sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Revally”—drowse again; then wake to find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bright sun through the broken tiles thick-streaming.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Revally” real: and there’s an end to dreaming.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Up, Boys, and Out!” Then O what green, what still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace in the orchard, deep and sweet and kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shattered abruptly—splashing water, shout<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On shout of sport, and cookhouse vessels banging,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dixie against dixie musically clanging.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The farmer’s wife, searching for eggs, ’midst all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear farmhouse cries. A stroll: and then “Breakfast’s up.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Porridge and bacon! Tea out of a real cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Borrowed). First day on Rest, a Festival<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mirth, laughter in safety, a still air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“No whizzbangs,” “crumps” to fear, nothing to mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Danger and the thick brown mud behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An end to wiring, digging, end to care.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">{68}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now wonders begin, Sergeants with the crowd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mix; Corporals, Lance-Corporals, little proud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Authority forgotten, all goes well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this our Commonwealth, with tales to tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smokes to exchange, letters of price to read,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Letters of friends more sweet than daily bread.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Sergeant-major sheathes his claws and lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smoking at length, content deep in his eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Officers like brothers chaff and smile—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Salutes forgotten, etiquette the while,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comrades and brothers all, one friendly band.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now through the orchard (sun-dried of dewfall) in<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And out the trees the noisy sports begin.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He that is proud of body runs, leaps, turns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somersaults, hand-turns; the licensed jester flings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Javelins of blunt wit may bruise not pierce;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ragtimes and any scrap of nonsense sings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All’s equal now. It’s Rest, none cares, none escapes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hurtless battering of those kindly japes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Noon comes, the estaminets open welcome doors,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men drift along the roads in three and fours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enter those cool-paven rooms, and sit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waiting; many there are to serve, Madame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forces her way with glasses, all ignores<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The impatient clamour of that thirsty jam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The outcries, catcalls, queries, doubtful wit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alike. Newspapers come, “Journal, m’sieur?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“What’s the news?” “Anything fresh, boy?” “Tell us what’s new.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">{69}</a></span>”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dinner, perhaps a snooze, perhaps a stroll.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tea, letters (most like), rations to divide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Third of a loaf, half, if luck’s our way).<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No work, no work, no work! A lovely day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the main street men loiter side by side.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So day goes on blue-domed till the west’s afire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the sun just sunken, though we cannot see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hidden in green, the fall of majesty.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our hearts are lifted up, fierce with desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But once again to see the ricks, the farms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue roads, still trees of home in the rich glow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s pageant fading slower and more slow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till Peace folds all things in with tender arms.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last stroll in the orchard ends, the last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Candles are lit in bivvy and barn and cart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where comrades talking lie, comfort at heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gladder for danger shared in the hard past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars grow bright ’gainst Heaven’s still-deepening blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lights in the orchard die. “I wonder how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mother is keeping: she must be sleepy now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As we, yet may be wondering all night through.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">{70}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DICKY" id="DICKY"></a>DICKY -<br />(<span class="smcap">To his Memory</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">They</span> found him when the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was yet but gloom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Six feet of scarréd clay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was ample room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wide enough domain for all desires<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him, whose glowing eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made mock at lethargies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were not a moment still;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can Death, all slayer, kill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fervent source of those exultant fires?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, not so;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere that glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And starry shine so clear astonishes yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wondering spirits as they come and go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eyes that nor they nor we shall ever forget.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -OMIECOURT. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">{71}</a></span> </p> - -<h2><a name="THE_DAY_OF_VICTORY" id="THE_DAY_OF_VICTORY"></a>THE DAY OF VICTORY -<br />(<span class="smcap">To my City</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> dull dispiriting November weather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung like a blight on town and tower and tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hardly was Beauty anywhere to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save—how fine rain (together<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With spare last leaves of creepers once showed wet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As it were, with blood of some high-making passion,)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drifted slow and slow....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But steadily aglow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The City was, beneath its grey, and set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong-mooded above the day’s inclemency.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flaunting from houses, over the rejoicing crowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flags waved; that told how nation against nation<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should war no more, their wounds tending awhile:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sullen vanquished; Victors with heads bowed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still the bells from the square towers pealed Victory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whole time cried Victory, Victory flew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Banners invisible argent; Music intangible<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A glory of spirit wandered the wide air through.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">{72}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">All knew it, nothing mean of fire or common<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ran in men’s minds; none so poor but knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some touch of sacred wonder, noble wonder,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thought’s surface moving under;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s texture coarse transfiguring through and through.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Joking, friendly-quarrelling, holiday-making,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eddying hither, thither, without stay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That concourse went, squibs, crackers, squibbing, cracking—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughter gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All common-jovial noises sounded, bugles triumphing masterful, strident, clear above all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail fellow, cat-call ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet one discerned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A new spirit learnt of pain, some great<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Acceptance out of hard endurance learned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And truly; wrested bare of hand from Fate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soldier from his body slips the pack,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Staggers, relaxes, crouches, then lies back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad for the end of torment. Here was more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sense of consummation undeserved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Desire fulfilled beyond dreams, completion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Humbly accepted,—a proud and grateful nation<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Took the reward of purpose had not swerved,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">{73}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But steadily before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw out, with equal mind, through alternation<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hope and doubt—a four-year purge of fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Changing with sore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Travail the flawed spirit, cleansing desire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And glad was I:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad—who had seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Somme and Ancre too many comrades lie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was as if the Woman’s spirit moved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That multitude, never of Man that pays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So lightly for the treasure of his days—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some woman that too greatly had beloved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, willing, half her care of life foregone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Best half of being losing with her son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beloved, beautiful, born-of-agony One....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dull skies wept still. Drooped suddenly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flags all. No triumph there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Belgium, the Stars and Stripes, Gaul, Italy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Britain, assured Mistress, Queen of the Sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forlorn colours showed; rags glory-bare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night came, starless, to blur all things over<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That strange assort of Life;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sister, and lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brother, child, wife,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">{74}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parent—each with his thought, careless or passioned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those who gave their frames of flesh to cover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From spoil their land and folk, desperately fashioned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fate stubborn to their will.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rain fell, miserably, miserably, and still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The strange crowd clamoured till late, eddied, clamoured,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mixed, mused, drifted.... The Day of Victory.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">{75}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PASSIONATE_EARTH" id="PASSIONATE_EARTH"></a>PASSIONATE EARTH -<br />(<span class="smcap">To J. W. H.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Where</span> the new-turned ploughland runs to clean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Edges of sudden grass-land, lovely, green—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music, music clings, music exhales,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And inmost fragrance of a thousand tales.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There the heart lifts, the soul takes flight to sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High at Heaven-gate; but loth for entering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest there such brown and green it never find;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor feel the sting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of such a beauty left so far behind.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">{76}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_POPLAR" id="THE_POPLAR"></a>THE POPLAR -<br />(<span class="smcap">To Micky</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A tall</span> slim poplar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That dances in<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hidden corner<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the old garden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is it in you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makes communion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With this wind of Autumn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The clouds, the sun?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You must be lonely<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amidst round trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With their matron-figures<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stubborn knees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Casting hard glances<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of keen despite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the lone girl that dances<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silvery white.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But you are dearer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sky and earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than lime-trees, plane-trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of meaner birth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your sweet shy beauty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dearer to us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than tree-folk, worthy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Censorious.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">{77}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DOWN_COMMERCIAL_ROAD_GLOUCESTER" id="DOWN_COMMERCIAL_ROAD_GLOUCESTER"></a>DOWN COMMERCIAL ROAD (GLOUCESTER) -<br />(<span class="smcap">To my Mother</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> I was small and packed with tales of desert islands far<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My mother took me walking in a grey ugly street,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But there the sea-wind met us with a jolly smell of tar,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sailorman went past to town with slow rolling gait;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And Gloucester she’s famous in story.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The trees and shining sky of June were good enough to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Better than books or any tales the sailormen might tell—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But tops’le spars against the blue made fairyland for me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The snorting tug made surges like the huge Atlantic swell.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And Gloucester she’s famous in story.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then thought I, how much better to sail the open seas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than sit in school at spelling-books or sums of grocers’ wares.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">{78}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’d have knelt for pity at any captain’s knees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To go see the banyan tree or white Arctic bears.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And Gloucester she’s famous in story.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Gloucester men about the world that dare the seas to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remember little boys at school a-studying their best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hide somehow from Mother, and get clear away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To where the flag of England flies prouder than the rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And Gloucester she’s famous in story.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">{79}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FROM_OMIECOURT" id="FROM_OMIECOURT"></a>FROM OMIECOURT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O small</span> dear things for which we fight—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Red roofs, ricks crowned with early gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Orchards that hedges thick enfold—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O visit us in dreams to-night!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who watch the stars through broken walls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ragged roofs, that you may be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still kept our own and proudly free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Severn from the Welsh height falls.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">{80}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LE_COQ_FRANCAIS" id="LE_COQ_FRANCAIS"></a>LE COQ FRANÇAIS -<br />(<span class="smcap">To Ronald</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">After</span> the biting cold of the outer night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seemed—(“Le Coq Français”)—a palace of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And its low roof black-timbered was most fine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After the iron and sandbags of the line.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Easy it was to be happy there! Madame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frying a savoury mess of eggs and ham,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Talking the while: of the War, of the crops, her son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who should see to them, and would, when the War was done.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of battalions who had passed there, happy as we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find a house so clean, such courtesy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Simple, sincere; after vigils of frost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The place seemed the seventh Heaven of comfort; lost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In miraculous strange peace and warmth we’d sit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the prowling police hunted us out of it—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Away from café noir, café au lait, vin blanc,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vin rouge, citron, all that does belong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the kindly shelter of old estaminets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nooked and cornered, with mirth of firelight ablaze—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Herded us into billets; where candles must show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little enough comfort after the steady glow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">{81}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that wonderful fireshine. We must huddle us close<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In blankets, hiding all but the crimson nose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think awhile of home, if the frost would let<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thought flow at all; then sleep, sleep to forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All but home and old rambles, lovely days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of maiden April, glamorous September haze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All darling things of life, the sweet of desire—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Castles of Spain in the deep heart of the fire.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">{82}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_FISHERMAN_OF_NEWNHAM" id="THE_FISHERMAN_OF_NEWNHAM"></a>THE FISHERMAN OF NEWNHAM -<br />(<span class="smcap">To my Father</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> I was a boy at Newnham,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For every tide that ran<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift on its way to Bollo,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wished I were a man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sail out and discover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where such a tide began.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when my strength came on me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis I must earn my bread:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Father set me fishing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By Frampton Hock, instead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wandering to the ocean—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherever Severn led.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now I’ve come to manhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too many cares have I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think of gallivanting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(A wife and child forbye).<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I must wonder ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until time comes to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then I shall question Peter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the heavenly floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What makes the tide in rivers—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How comes the Severn bore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all things he will tell me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I never knew before.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">{83}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_LOCK-KEEPER" id="THE_LOCK-KEEPER"></a>THE LOCK-KEEPER -<br />(<span class="smcap">To the Memory of Edward Thomas</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A tall</span> lean man he was, proud of his gun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of his garden, and small fruit trees every one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knowing all weather signs, the flight of birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Farther than I could hear the falling thirds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the first cuckoo. Able at digging, he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smoked his pipe ever, furiously, contentedly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full of old country tales his memory was;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yarns of both sea and land, full of wise saws<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In rough fine speech; sayings his father had,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That worked a twelve-hour day when but a lad.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Handy with timber, nothing came amiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his quick skill; and all the mysteries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sail-making, net-making, boat-building were his.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dark face lit with bright bird-eyes, his stride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Manner most friendly courteous, stubborn pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall not forget, not yet his patience<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With me, unapt, though many a far league hence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll travel for many a year, nor ever find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A winter-night companion more to my mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor one more wise in ways of Severn river,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though her villages I search for ever and ever.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">{84}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_REVELLERS" id="THE_REVELLERS"></a>THE REVELLERS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I saw</span> a silver-bright shield hang<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Entangled in the topmost boughs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of an old elm-tree, and a house<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming; the while a small stream sang<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tune of broken silver by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laughed and wondered at the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A thousand thousand silver lamps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dared the bright moon of stars. O! who,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandering that silver quiet through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might heed the river-mists, dew-damps?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All Heaven exulted, but Earth lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breathless and tranced in peace alway.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the orange-windowed tavern near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song some ancient lover had—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When stars and longing made him mad—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fashioned from wonder at his dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rang out. Yet none there moves a limb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see such stars as passioned him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The loth moon left the twigs and gazed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full-fronted at the road, the stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all but tiniest tunes adream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stilled, held breath at last amazed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The farmers from their revel came;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But no stars saw, and felt no flame.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">{85}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ANNIE_LAURIE" id="ANNIE_LAURIE"></a>“ANNIE LAURIE” -<br />(<span class="smcap">To H. N. H.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> high barn’s lit by many a guttering flare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of flickering candle, dangerous—(hence forbidden)—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To warm soft straw, whereby the cold floor’s hidden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On which we soon shall rest without a care.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">War is forgotten. Gossip fills the air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of home, and laughter sounds beyond the midden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the stars, where Youth makes Joy unchidden<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gods or men, and mocks at sorrow there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hark! what sudden pure untainted passion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seizes us now, and stills the garrulous?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song of old immortal dedication<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To Beauty’s service and one woman’s heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No tears we show, no sign of flame in us<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This hour of stars and music set apart.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">{86}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_BATTALION_IS_NOW_ON_REST" id="THE_BATTALION_IS_NOW_ON_REST"></a>THE BATTALION IS NOW ON REST -<br />(<span class="smcap">To “La Comtesse”</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Walking</span> the village street, to watch the stars and find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some peace like the old peace, some soothe for soul and mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The noise of laughter strikes me as I move on my way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towards England—Westward—and the last glow of day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here is the end of houses. I turn on my heel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stay where those voices a moment made me feel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I were on Cotswold, with nothing else to do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than stare at the old houses, to taste the night-dew;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To answer friendly greetings from rough voices kind....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, one may try for ever to be calm and resigned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A red blind at evening sets the poor heart on fire—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or a child’s face, a sunset—with the old hot desire.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">{87}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PHOTOGRAPHS" id="PHOTOGRAPHS"></a>PHOTOGRAPHS<br /><br /> -(<span class="smcap">To Two Scots Lads</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lying</span> in dug-outs, joking idly, wearily;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Watching the candle guttering in the draught;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearing the great shells go high over us, eerily<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing; how often have I turned over, and laughed<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With pity and pride, photographs of all colours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All sizes, subjects: khaki brothers in France;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or mothers’ faces worn with countless dolours;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or girls whose eyes were challenging and must dance,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though in a picture only, a common cheap<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ill-taken card; and children—frozen, some<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Babies) waiting on Dicky-bird to peep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of the handkerchief that is his home<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(But he’s so shy!). And some with bright looks, calling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Delight across the miles of land and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That not the dread of barrage suddenly falling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Could quite blot out—not mud nor lethargy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">{88}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Smiles and triumphant careless laughter. O<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pain of them, wide Earth’s most sacred things!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lying in dugouts, hearing the great shells slow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sailing mile-high, the heart mounts higher and sings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But once—O why did he keep that bitter token<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a dead Love?—that boy, who, suddenly moved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Showed me, his eyes wet, his low talk broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A girl who better had not been beloved.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">{89}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THAT_COUNTY" id="THAT_COUNTY"></a>THAT COUNTY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Go</span> up, go up your ways of varying love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take each his darling path wherever lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The central fires of secret memory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether Helvellyn tower the lakes above;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or black Plinlimmon time and tempest prove;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or any English heights of bravery.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I will go climb my little hills to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Severn, and Malverns, May Hill’s tiny grove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No Everest is here, no peaks of power<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Astonish men. But on the winding ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White in the frost-time, blinding in full June blaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A man may take all quiet heart’s delight—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Village and quarry, taverns and many a tower<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That saw Armada beacons set alight.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">{90}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="INTERVAL" id="INTERVAL"></a>INTERVAL</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">To</span> straight the back, how good; to see the slow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dispersed cloud-flocks of Heaven wandering blind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Without a shepherd, feel caress the kind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet August air, soft drifting to and fro<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meadow and arable.—Leaning on my hoe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I searched for any beauty eyes might find.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tossing wood showed silver in the wind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green hills drowsed wakeful in the golden glow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet all the air was loud with mutterings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rumours of trouble strange in that rich peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where War’s dread birds must practise without cease<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All that the stoutest pilot-heart might dare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death over dreaming life managed his wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Droning dull song in the sun-satiate air.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">{91}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DE_PROFUNDIS" id="DE_PROFUNDIS"></a>DE PROFUNDIS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> only this fear would leave me I could dream of Crickley Hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a hundred thousand thoughts of home would visit my heart in sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But here the peace is shattered all day by the devil’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the guns bark night-long to spoil the velvet silence deep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O who could think that once we drank in quiet inns and cool<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And saw brown oxen trooping the dry sands to slake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their thirst at the river flowing, or plunged in a silver pool<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To shake the sleepy drowse off before well awake?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We are stale here, we are covered body and soul and mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With mire of the trenches, close clinging and foul.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We have left our old inheritance, our Paradise behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And clarity is lost to us and cleanness of soul.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">{92}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O blow here, you dusk-airs and breaths of half-light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And comfort despairs of your darlings that long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night and day for sound of your bells, or a sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of your tree-bordered lanes, land of blossom and song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Autumn will be here soon, but the road of coloured leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is not for us, the up and down highway where go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth’s pilgrims to wonder where Malvern upheaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That blue-emerald splendour under great clouds of snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some day we’ll fill in trenches, level the land and turn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more joyful faces to the country where trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear thickly for good drink, where strong sunsets burn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Huge bonfires of glory—O God, send us peace!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hard it is for men of moors or fens to endure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Exile and hardship, or the Northland grey-drear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we of the rich plain of sweet airs and pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh! Death would take so much from us, how should we not fear?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">{93}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TOWER" id="THE_TOWER"></a>THE TOWER -<br />(<span class="smcap">To M. H.</span>)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">On</span> the old road of Roman, on the road<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of chivalry and pride—the path to Wales<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Famed in the chronicles and full of tales—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Westward I went, songs in my mouth, and strode<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Free-bodied, light of heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past many a heaped waggon with golden load,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rumbling carrier’s cart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, near the bridge where snorting trains go under<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With noise of thunder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I turned and saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tower stand, like an immortal law—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Permanent, past the reach of Time and Change,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet fair and fresh as any flower wild blown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As delicate, as fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As any highest tiny cloudlet sown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faint in the upper air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fragile yet strong, a music that vision seemed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though all the land was fair, let the eye range<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither it will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On plain or hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It must return where white the tower gleamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wonderful, irresistible, bubble-bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the morning light.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">{94}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then I knew, I knew why men must choose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rather the dangerous path of arms than let<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty be broken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is God’s token,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sign of Him; why hearts of courage forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aught but the need supreme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To follow honour and the perilous thing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scorning Death’s sting;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knowing Man’s faith not founded on a dream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fint"><i>Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> -<pre style='margin-top:6em'> -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR'S EMBERS *** - -This file should be named 63882-h.htm or 63882-h.zip - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/8/63882/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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